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January, 1897, to June, 1897 

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THE ^ £jTj 

^n Illustrated Jffonthty 



Vol. XIII. 


Xonbon : 



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ADVENTURES OF A MAN OF SCIENCE, THE. By L. T. Mkade and Clifford Halifax, M.T) 

VII. — A Race with the Sun 3 

VIII.— The Man Who Smiled 

{Illustrations by J. FlNNEMORE, R.B.A.) 

VIII. —The Episode of the Seldon Gold Mine 

IX. — The Episode of the Japanned Dispatch-Box 

X. — The Episode of the Game of Poker ... 

XL — The Episode of the Bertillon Method 

XII. — The Episode of the Old Bailey 
{Illustrations by Gordon Browne, R.B.A.) 


(Illustrated by J. A. Shepherd.) 


(Written and Illustrated by C. E. Borchgrevink.) 





BEER-MARKERS. By George Dollar 75 

(Illustrations from Photographs. ) 


(Illustrations from Facsimiles.) 


(Illustrated by J. A. SHEPHERD.) 


(Illustrations from Photographs.) 

CAPTURED BY BRIGANDS. By Emily Spender 363 

(Illustrations by Paul Hardy.) 

CIIILO'S MEMORIES OF GAD'S HILL, A. By Mary Angela Dickens 69 

(Illustrations from Photographs. ) 


(Illustrations from Photographs.) 

CURIOSITIES ... 115, 237, 357, 477, 597, 795 

(Illustrations from Photographs and Diagrams.) 


(Illustration* from Facsimiles.) 


DOCTORS YARN, THE. By W. Carter Platts 392 

(Illustrations by C. J. Stan 1 land, R.I.) 

DOROTHY. By James Workman 315 

(Illustrations by Paul Hardy. ) 

DR. BERNARD'S PATIENT. By Henry E. Dudeney... i ikiiwcd^ITV nr-MLirmf I hi 5° 

(Illustrations by W. B. Wollen, R. I. ) U 



(Illustrations from Photographs. ) 


(Illustrations from Photographs.) 

EARTH-GIRDLER, AN. By George Dollar 

(Illustrations from Photographs.) 


( Written and Illustrated by J. Holt Schooling.) 

EASTER EGGS. By L. S. Lewis 

(Illustrations from Photographs.) 

ECLIPSE OF 1896, THE TOTAL. By Sir Robert Ball ... 
( Illustrations from Photogra phs. ) 


(Illustrations from Photographs.) 

EXPLOSIONS. By Framley Steelcroft 

(Illustrations from Photographs.) 

EXTREMES MEET. By Mary E. Johnson 

(Illustrations by Paul Hardy.) 

FLOODS. By Jeremy Broome 

(Illustrations from Photographs. ) 

FLOWERY ISLANDS, THE. By Sir George Newnes, Bart. 
(Illustrations from Photographs.) 

FLYING-MACHINE, THE NEW. By Professor S. P. Langley 
(Illustrations from Paintings, Drawings, and Photos.) 

FOOTBALL IN ARMOUR. By Charles Emerson Cook ... 
(Illustrations from Photographs.) 

(Illustrations from Photographs.) 


(Illustrations from Photographs by A. J. Johnson.) 

(Illustrations from Photographs. ) 

By Mary Angela Dickens 

By William G. FitzGerald 









(Pleydei.l North) 

Illustrations by Paul Hardy.) 

HOLDING-UP OF THE ALHAMBRA, THE. By S. Frances Harrison (Seranus) 

(Illustrations by Gordon Browne, R.B.A.) 


(Written and Illustrated by R. Francis Nesbit.) 


(Illustrations from Photographs.) 


IDOL, A LIVING. By Framley Steelcroft 
(Illustrations from Photographs.) 

LIL— Sir Clements Markham 

G. FitzGerald 

(Illustrations from Photographs and Facsimiles.) 
LIII.— Mr. and Mrs. Beerbohm Tree 

(Illustrations from Photographs and a Drawing.) 
LIV.-Sir Martin Conway. By Framley Steelcroft 

(Illustrations from Photographs.) 

and the Royal Geographical Society. By William 




JAPAN, WITH AN ARTIST IN. By Raymond Blatiiwayt 

( Illustrations by Mortimer Men pes.) 

(Illustrations ko\w Photographs hy A. J. JOHNSON.) 





LE GRAND DrtSASTRE. By Christie Dutton 

{Illustrations by Smargiassi Sant'Antico.) 


{Illustrations by J. Finnemore, R.B.A.) 

LIGHTNING. By Jeremy Broomk 

{Illustrations from Photographs.) 

LILLEKORT. A Story for Children. From the French of Xavier Marmier 
{Illustrations by H. R. Millar.) 

LONG SHOT, A. By W. Buckley 

{Illustrations by C. J. Staniland, R,I.) 








(Illustrations by II. R. Millar.) 

(Illustrations by J. L. Wimbush.) 

MIDDAY ROCK, THE. A Story for Children 
(Illustrations by II. R. Millar.) 

MYSTERY OF EVIL, A. By J. Laurence Hornibrook 
(Illustrations by Paul Hardy.) 

A Story for Children. From the German of A. Godin 589 

By II. A. Rudali 

From the French of J. Jarry 




(Illustrations from Photographs.) 


I. — Poultry 

II.— Dogs 

(Illustrated hy]. A. Shepherd.) 

By Balliol Bruce 




(Illustrations from Photographs.) 


(Illustrations by W. Thomas Smith.) 

POLICEMEN OF THE WORLD. By C. S. Pelham-Clinton 

(Illustrations from Photographs.) 


Campbell, Mrs. Patrick 
Carlisle, The Bishop of ... 
Clarke, Mr. John S. 
Denmark, The King of 
Denmark, The Queen of ... 
Durham, The Bishop of 
Forbes, Stanhope A., A.R.A. 
Gibb, Mr, Robert, R.S.A. ... 
Hay, Sir C. Dalrymple 
Kingston, Miss Gertrude ... 
Langley, S. Pierpont 
Lawrance, Mr. Justice 
Lees, Rev. Dr. Cameron ... 

(Illustrations from Drawings.) 

.... 551 

• 55o 
. 390 

. . . 702 


... 701 

::: K 

.- 183 
... 70S 

•■• 553 
... 281 


Lord Mayor, The 

Manns, Mr. August 

Nicholls, Mr. Harry 

Princes Mohammed and Hossem Khan 


Ritchie, Right Hon. C. T., M.P. 

Roumania, The King of 

Roumania, The Queen of 

Salomons, Sir David 

South \yark v The Bishop of 
Stanley, Miss Alma 

Tempest, Miss Marie 

Wells, Commander 

By "Sphinx" 












Gerald 603 

(Illustrations from Paintings, Sketches, and Photographs.) 

QUEENS OF A DAY. By Margaret Griffith 299 

(Illustrations from Photographs and Facsimiles. ) 

QUEEN'S STABLES, THE. By C. S. Pelham-Clinton 761 

(Illustrations from Photographs and a Drawing.) 

(Illustrations from Paintings, Sketches, and Photographs.) 

(Illustrations by A. Pearse. ) 

By William G. FitzGkrald 603 

— Drigiitalfrc m" 






SALVAGE HUNTER, THE. By C. J. Cutcuffe Hyne 

{Illustrations by VV. Christian Symons.) 

SCULPTOR OF FLORENCE, THE. By Charles J. Mansford ... 
{Illustrations by A. Pearsk.) 

SIDE-SHOWS. By William G. FitzGerau) 

(Illustrations from Photographs arid Facsimiles.) 


(Written and Illustrated hy R. Francis Nesbit.) 

(Illustrations by F. C. Gould.) 

STRAWBERRY THIEF, THE. A Story for Children. From the German of Pauline 

Schanz 790 

(Illustrations by H. R. Millar.) 


320, 407, 521, 776 


26, 161, 329, 465, 575, 732 


(Illustrations by A. Pearse.) 

TELEGRAPHY, THE NEW. An Interview with Signor Marconi. By H. J. W. Dam ... 273 
(Illustrations from Photographs.) 

TEN LITTLE FAIRIES, THE. A Story for Children From the French of Georges 

Mitchell 472 

(Illustrations by H. R. Millar.) 

11 THE PARISIAN." From the French of Paul d'Argenay. By Alys IIallard 450 

(Illustrations by W. B. Wollen, R.I.) 

TOLD TO THE WORLD. By Mrs. Eg er ton Eastwick (Plkydell North) 81 

(Illustrations by Claud A. Shepperson.) 


(Illustrations by Alan Wright.) 

TRAGEDY OF THE KOROSKO, THE. By A. Con an Doyle 483,641 

( Illustrations by S 1 d n e y Pag et. ) 

TREASURE SHIP, IN A. By Owen Hali 537 

(Illustrations by W. Christian Symons.) 

TWO OF A TRADE. By Robert Barr 101 

(Illustrations by Paul Hardy.) 


(Illustrations from Photographs and Drawings.) 

(Illustrations from Facsimiles.) 

... 401 


( Written and Illustrated by J. Holt Schooling.) 


(Illustrations from Photographs.) 

WITTYSPLINTER. A Story for Children. From the German of Clemens Brentano no 

(Illustrations by H. R. Millar.) 

WOODEN SHOE, A. From the French of Ph. Audrbrand 154 

(Illustrations by Sidney Paget.) 


Original from 

C^f\r%Ci\i^ Original from 



(Seepage 15.) 



Original from 

The Strand Magazine. 

Vol, xiii. 

JANUARY, [897. 

No. 73 

The Adventures of a Man of Science. 

By L T Meade and Clifford Halifax, M.D. 

T was in the spring of 1895 
that the following apparently 
unimportant occurrence took 
place. I returned home 
somewhat late one evening, 
and was met by my servant, 
Silva, with the words : — 

"A lady, sir— a nun, I think, from her 
dress— is waiting for you in your study." 

u What can she want with me ? " I asked. 
I felt annoyed, as I was anxious to get to 
work on some important experiments, 

£t She is very anxious to have an inter- 
view with you, sir— she called almost 
immediately after you had gone out, and 
said if I would allow her she would 
wait to speak to you, as her mission 
was of some importance- I showed her 
into the study, and after 1 quarter of an 
hour she rang the bell, and desired me to 
tell you that she would not wait now, but 
would call again later. She left the house, 
but came back about ten minutes ago. I 
did not like to refuse her, and -" 

** Quite right, Silva ; I will see to the mat- 
ter," I answered. 

I went straight 
to the study, where 
a bright, young- 
looking woman, in 
the full costume 
of a nun of the 
Church of Rome, 
started up and 
came forward to 
meet me. She made 
a brief apology for 
intruding upon me, 
and almost before 
I could reply to 
her, plunged into 
the object of her 
visit It so hap- 
pened that she 
knew a young man 
Vol* xbL — 1 

in whom I was interested, having come across 
him when in hospital— she confirmed my 
views with regard to him— told me a sub- 
scription was being got up for his benefit, 
and asked if I would contribute towards it. 
I gave her two sovereigns — she expressed 
much gratitude, and speedily left the house. 

At this time I was lecturing in several 
quarters, and did not give another thought to 
such an apparently uninteresting event. In 
the autumn of the same year, however, I was 
destined to recall it with vivid and startling 

During the special autumn I was, as I 
fondly hoped, approaching the magnum 
opus of my life — I was in a fair way to 
the discovery of a new explosive which would 
put gunpowder, dynamite, and all other 
explosives completely in the shade. It was 
to be smokeless, devoid of smelly and also 
of such a nature that it would be impossible 
for it to ignite except when placed in certain 
combinations. Its propelling power would be 
greater than anything in existence ; in short, 
if it turned out what I dreamed, it would be 

Copyright, 1897+ by L. T. Meade, in the United States of America. 


a most important factor in case of war, and 
of immense use to England as a nation. 
Giddy hopes often throbbed in my head as 
I worked over it. 

My experiments were progressing favour- 
ably, but I still wanted one link. Try as I 
would I could not obtain it. No combina- 
tions that I attempted would produce the 
desired result, and in much vexation of 
spirit I was wondering if, after all, the secret 
of my life would never reveal itself, when 
on a certain afternoon Silva opened the 
door of my laboratory and announced two 
visitors. This was an unusual thing for him 
to do, and I started up in surprise and some 
involuntary annoyance. A tall man had 
entered the room — he was dark, with the 
swarthy complexion of a gipsy ; his eyes were 
small, closely-set, and piercing ; he had a long 
beard and a quantity of thick hair falling in 
profusion round his neck. Immediately follow- 
ing him was a little man, in every sense of the 
word his antitype. He was thin and small, 
clean-shaven, and with a bald head. The two 
men were total strangers to me, and I stood 
still for a moment unable to account for this 
intrusion. The elder of the two came 
forward with outstretched hands. 

" Pardon me," he said, " I know I am 
intruding. My name is Paul Lewin — this 
is my friend, Carl Kruse. We have had the 
pleasure of listening to your lecture at the 
Royal Society, and have taken these uncere- 
monious means of forcing ourselves upon 
you, for you are the only man in England 
who can do what we want." 

" Pray, sit down," I said to them both. I 
hastily cleared two chairs, and my uninvited 
guests seated themselves. Lewin's face 
seemed fairly to twitch with eagerness, but 
Kruse, on the contrary, was very quiet and 
calm. He was as immovable in expression 
as his companion was the* reverse. The 
elder man's deep-set eyes flashed ; he looked 
me all over from head to foot. 

" You are the only person who can help us," 
he repeated, breathing quickly as he spoke. 

" Pray explain yourself," I said to him. 

"I will do so, and in a few words. 
Mr. Kruse and I heard you lecture in 
the early part of last summer. From 
hints you let drop it became abundantly 
clear to us both that you were in the 
pursuit of a discovery which has occupied 
the best part of both our lives. We are in a 
difficulty which we believe that you can 
explain away. We had hoped not to ask 
you for any assistance, but time is precious 
— any moment, you may perfect your most 

interesting experiments. In that case the 
patent and the honour would be yours, and 
we should be out of it. Now, we don't want 
to be out of it, and we have come here to 
ask you frankly if you will co-operate with 

I felt the warm blood rushing into my face. 

" I don't understand you," I said ; " to 
what discovery do you allude ? " 

" To that of the great new explosive," said 

I sprang to my feet in ill -suppressed 

" You must be making a mistake," I said. 
" I have not breathed a word of the matter 
over which I am engaged to a living soul." 

" You dropped hints at your lecture, which 
made it plain to us that you and we were on 
the same track," said Kruse. " But, here, I 
can prove the matter." He took a ncte-book 
hurriedly out of his pocket and began to 
read from it. 

I listened to him in dismay and astonish- 
ment. There was not the least doubt that 
these men were working on my own lines — 
nay, more, that their intelligence was equal 
to my own, and it was highly probable that 
they would be first in the field. 

" The fact is this," said Lewin : " my friend 
and I have been really working with you step 
by step. While you have been perfecting 
your great explosive in your London labora- 
tory, we have been conducting matters on a 
larger and freer scale in our more extensive 
laboratories off the Cornish coast. The 
solitude of our place, too, enables us to test 
our explosive in the open air. Now, we 
know exactly the point to which you have 
come, and your present difficulty is " — he 
dropped his voice to a semi-whisper — "you 
are trying to combine certain gases to produce 
a certain result. Now, we have discovered 
what you want, but our explosive is still far 
from perfect, owing to the instability of 
nitrogen chloride " — he dropped his voice 

" You can help us," he said, abruptly ; " I 
see by your face that you have certain infor- 
mation which will be valuable to us. Now 
we, on our side, have information which will 
be of immense benefit to you. Will you join 
us in the matter? You have but to name 
your own price." 

I could not help staring at Lewin in 
astonishment — he started impatiently from 
his seat. 

"This is the state of the case, sir," he 
continued : " our lives havt 1 been spent over 
this matter — it is a great work- a magnificent 



discovery ; it is nearly complete. When 
absolutely completed we intend to offer it to 
the German Government for something like a 
million sterling — but there is a probability 
that you may be first in the field. If you 
patent your discovery before ours, we are 
done men. Will you be content to work with 
us, or' ? — he stopped, his face was crimson, his 
eyes seemed to start from his head. 

41 My friend is right/ 1 said Kxuse, "but 


he is far too excitable : I have told him 
so over and over. We know of your 
discovery, Mr, Gilchrist; we believe that 
you can help us, and we know that we can 
help you. We are working on the same 
lines. The discovery of this new explosive 
means money, a very large fortune, and fame. 
Now, we don't mean to resign our own share 
in this without a struggle, hut we are satisfied 
to go hand in glove with you. Will you visit 
us in Cornwall and help us with our experi- 
ment ? We will impart to you gladly what 
we know, on condition that you in your turn 
give us information. You thus see that 
between us the discovery is complete ; without 
our united efforts it may be a very long time 
before it is ready for use. Let us go shares in 
the matter," 

" I am not working at this thing for money/' 
I said. M I am an unmarried man, and have 
as much money as I need. When my dis- 
covery is complete I shall offer it to the English 
Government— they can do what they please 
with it — my reward will be the gain which it 
will give to my country. This is a time of 
peace, but on all hands men are armed to 

the teeth. The discovery o\ this explosive, 
if it means all that I hope it may mean, will 
be a most important factor in case of war." 
Kruse laughed somewhat nervously, 
" We are not so quixotic as you are," he 
said ; " I have a wife, and my friend, Lewin, 
has large claims upon him which make it 
essential that he should make money where 
he can. Now, will you come to terms 
or not ? The fact is this, our knowledge 

is indispensable to 
you, your knowledge 
is indispensable to us 
— shall we go shares 
or not ? H 

I thought for a 
little. I had begun 
by being much an- 
noyed with my strange 
visitors, but now, in 
spite of myself, I was 
interested. They not 
only knew what they 
were talking about, 
but they had some- 
thing to sell, which 1 
was only too willing 
to buy, 

"Can I look at 
your notes for a mo- 
ment ? " I said to 

He immediately 
handed me his note-book. I glanced over 
what he had written down — his statements 
were clear and to the point. There was no 
doubt that he and his companions were 
working on identical lines with myself. 

" 1 cannot give you an answer imme- 
diately,' 3 I said ; "your visit has astonished 
me ; the knowledge that you and I are work- 
ing at a similar discovery has amazed me 
still more, Will you call upon me again 
to-morrow ? I may then be in a position 
to speak to you," 

They rose at once, Lewin with ill- 
suppressed irritation, but Kruse quietly. 

The moment I was alone I gave myself 
up to anxious thought, It was impossible 
to pursue any further investigations that day, 
and, leaving the laboratory, I spent the rest 
of the evening in my study. At night I slept 
little, and on the following morning had 
resolved to make terms with the Cornish 
men. They both arrived at ten o'clock, 
accompanied now by a pretty young woman, 
whom Krus? introduced as his wife. The 
moment I savr her face I was puzzled by an 

into ^itffEteiwwKiifflrart^y elS£ - she 


was fair-haired, and, I had little doubt, had 
German blood in her veins — her eyes were 
large and blue, and particularly innocent in 
expression — her mouth was softly curved ; 
she had pretty teeth and a bright smile — she 
was like thousands of other women, and yet 
there was a difference. I felt certain that she 
was not a stranger to me, but where and 
under what possible circumstances I had met 
her before was a mystery which I could not 
fathom. She apologized in a pretty way for 
forcing herself into my presence, but told me 
she was really as much interested in the 
discovery as her husband and friend, and as 
the matter was of the utmost importance, had 
insisted on coming with them to visit me 

Having asked my guests to be seated, I 
immediately proceeded to the subject of their 

" I have thought very carefully over this 
matter," I said, " and perceive that it may be 
best in the end for us to come to a mutual 
arrangement, but I can only do so on the 
distinct understanding that if this explosive 
is completed it is not to be offered to a 
foreign nation, except in the event of the 
English Government refusing it That is 
extremely unlikely, as, if it is perfected on the 
lines which I have sketched out in my mind, 
it will be too valuable for us as a nation to 
lose. I am willing, gentlemen," I continued, 
" to help you with my knowledge, provided 
you allow a proper legal document to be 
drawn up, in which each of us pledges the 
other that we will take no steps with regard 
to the use of the explosive or the surrender- 
ing our rights in it, but with the concurrence 
of all three. My lawyer can easily prepare 
such a document, and we will all sign it 
On those terms and those alone I am willing 
to go with you." 

Lewin looked by no means satisfied, but 
Kruse and his wife eagerly agreed to every- 
thing that I suggested. 

"It is perfectly fair," said Mrs. Kruse, 
speaking in a bright, crisp voice ; " we give 
you something — you give us something. 
When the explosive is complete we go 
shares in the matter. We are willing to 
sign the document you speak of. Is it not 
so, Carl?" 

" Certainly," said her husband. " Mr. 
Gilchrist's terms are quite reasonable." 

Lewin still remained silent. 

11 1 have nothing else to suggest," I said, 
looking at him. 

" Oh, I am in your hands," he said then ; 
" the fact is, the thing that worries me is 

having to offer this to England. I am not a 
patriot in any sense of the word, and 1 believe 
Germany would give us more for it." 

" My terms are absolute," I repeated. " I 
am rather nearer to perfect discovery than 
you are, and the matter must drop, and we 
must both take our chances of being first in 
the field, if you do not agree to what I 

" I am in your hands," repeated the man. 
" When the legal document is drawn up I 
am willing to sign it" 

"And now," said Mrs. Kruse, coming 
forward and pushing back the fluffy hair 
from her forehead, "you will immediately 
arrange to come to us in Cornwall, will you 
not, Mr. Gilchrist ? " 

"Certainly," I replied, "and the sooner 
the better, for if this thing is to be completed, 
we have really no time to lose. I can go to 
Cornwall the day after to-morrow, and bring 
my lawyer's document with me." 

" That will do, capitally," said Mrs. Kruse 
— " we ourselves go home to-night — we are 
gieatly obliged to you. This is our address." 
She took out her card-case as she spoke, 
extracted a card, and hastily scribbled some 
directions on the back. 

" Our place is called Castle Lewin," she 
said—" it is situated on the coast not far 
from Chrome Ash — the country around is 
very wild, but there is a magnificent view and 
some splendid cliffs. Your nearest station 
is Chrome Ash. Our carriage shall meet 
you there and bring you straight to Castle 

" You had best take an early train," said 
Lewin, "that is, if you want to arrive in time 
for dinner. A good train leaves Paddington 
at 5.50 in the morning. I am sorry we are 
asking you to undertake so long a journey." 

" Pray do not mention it," I answered ; " I 
am quite accustomed to going about the 
country, and think nothing of a few hours on 
the railway." 

"We will expect you the day after to- 
morrow," said Mrs. Kruse ; " we are greatly 
obliged to you. I am quite sure you will 
never repent of the kindness you are about 
to show us." She held out her hand frankly, 
her blue eyes looked full into mine. Again 
I was puzzled by an intangible likeness. 
Where, when, how had I met the gaze of 
those eyes before ? My memory would not 
supply the necessary link. I took the hand 
she offered, and a few moments later my 
guests had left me alone. 

I went out at once to consult my lawyer 
and to tell him of the curious occurrence 


which had taken place. He promised to 
draw up the necessary document, and begged 
of me to be careful how far I gave myselt 

"There is no doubt that the men are 
enthusiastic scientists/ 1 I said. "It is plainly 
a case of give and take, and I believe I can- 
not do better than go shares with them in the 

Mr. Scrivener promised that I should have 
the terms of agreement in my possession 
that evening, and I returned home. 

The next day I made further preparations 
for my Cornish visit, and on the following 
morning, at an early hour, took train from 
Padding ton to Chrome Ash. The season of 
year was late October, and as I approached 
the coast I noticed that a great gale was 
blowing seawards. I am fond of Nature in 
her stormy moods, and as I had the com- 
partment to myself, I opened the window and 
put out my head to inhale the breeze. 

I arrived at Chrome Ash between five and 
six in the evening. Twilight was already 
falling and rain was pouring in torrents. It 
was a desolate little wayside station, and I 
happened to be the only passenger who left 
the train. A nicely appointed brougham 
and a pair of horses were waiting outside, 
arid with her head poked out of the window, 
looking eagerly around, I saw the pretty face 
of Mrs. Kruse. 

"Ah, you have corne ; that is good," she 
said. "I determined to meet you myself. 
Now, step in, won't you ? I have brought 
the brougham, for the night is so wild* We 
have a long drive before us, over ten miles — 
I hope you won't object to my company," 

I assured her to 
the contrary, and 
seated myself by 
her side. As I in- 
tended to return to 
town on the follow- 
ing day, I had only 
brought my suit- 
case with me. This 
was placed beside 
the driver, and we 
started off at a 
round pace in the 
direction of Castle 

To get to this 
out-of-the-way part 
of the country we 
had to skirt the 
coast, and the wind 
was now so high 

that the horses had to battle against it. The 
roads were in many places unprotected, and 
less surefooted beasts might have been in 
danger of coming to grief as they rounded 
promontories and skirted suspicious-looking 

The drive took over an hour 5 and long 
before we reached Castle Lewin darkness 
enveloped us. But at last we entered a 
long avenue, the horses dashed forward, the 
carriage made an abrupt turn, and I saw 
before me an old-fashioned, low house with a 
castellated roof and a to veer at one end. 
We drew up before a deep porch, a man- 
servant ran down some steps, flung open the 
door of the brougham, and helped Mrs. 
Kruse to alight. 

"See that Mr. Gilchrist's luggage is taken 
to his room," she said, * L and please tell your 
master and Mr. Lewin that we have returned. 
Come this way, please, Mr. Gilchrist." 

She led me into a square and lofty hall, the 
walls of which were decorated with different 
trophies of the chase. The floor was of oak, 
slippery and dark with age, and although the 
evening was by no means cold, a fire burned 
on the hearth at one side of the room, The 
fire looked cheerful, and I stepped up to 
it not unwillingly, 

" From the first of October to the first of 
May I never allow that fire to go out," said the 
young hostess, coming forward and rubbing 
her hands before the cheerful blaze. "This, 
as I have told you, Mr. Gilchrist, is a solitary 
place, and we need all the home comforts we 
can get. I am vexed that my husband is not 
in to receive you — but, ah I I hear him." 
She started and listened attentively. 


Original from 



A side door which I had not before noticed 
opened, and Kruse and his extraordinary dark 
companion both entered the room. They 
were accompanied by a couple of pointers, 
and were both dressed in thick jerseys and 
knickerbockers. Kruse offered me his hand 
in a calm, nonchalant manner, but Lewin, who 
could evidently never check his impetuosity, 
came eagerly forward, grasped my hand as if 
in a vice, and said, with emphasis : — 

" We are much obliged to you, Mr. 
Gilchrist — welcome to Castle Lewin. I am 
sorry the night is such a bad one, or, late as it 
is, we might have had a walk round the place 
before dinner." 

"No, no, Paul," said Mrs. Kruse, "you 
must not think of taking Mr. Gilchrist out 
again — he has had a long railway journey and 
a tiring drive, and would, I am sure, like to go 
to his room now to rest and dress for dinner." 

" I will show you the way," said Kruse. 

He took me up a low flight of stairs 
— we turned down a corridor, and he threw 
open the door of a pleasant, modern-look- 
ing bedroom. A fire blazed here also, the 
curtains were drawn at the windows, and 
the whole place looked cheery and hospitable. 
My host stepped forward, stirred up the fire 
to a more cheerful blaze, put on a log or 
two, and telling me that dinner would be 
announced by the sounding of a gong, left 
me to my own meditations. 

I stood for a short time by the fire, and 
then proceeded to dress. By and-by the 
gong sounded through the house, and. I went 
downstairs into the hall. The pointers were 
lying in front of the fire, and a great mastiff 
had now joined their company. The mastiff 
glanced at me out of two bloodshot eyes, 
and growled angrily as I approached. I am 
always fond of dogs, and, pretending not to 
notice the creature's animosity, patted him 
on his head. He looked up at me in some 
astonishment ; his growls ceased ; he rose 
slowly on his haunches, and not only received 
my caresses favourably, but even went the 
length of rubbing himself against my legs. 
At this moment Mrs. Kruse, in a pretty 
evening dress, tripped into the hall 

"Ah, there you are," she said, "and I see 
Demoniac has made friends with you. He 
scarcely ever does that with anyone." 

At this instant Lewin and Kruse entered 
the hall. I gave my arm to Mrs. Kruss, and 
we went into the dining-room. During dinner 
the gale became more tempestuous, and 
Kruse and his wife entertained me with 
tales of shipwreck and disaster. 

The cloth was removed, and an old 

mahogany table, nearly black with age and 
shining like a looking-glass, reflected decanters 
of wine and a plentiful dessert. 

" Pass the wine round," said Lewin. 
" Pray, Mr. Gilchrist, help yourself. I can 
recommend that port. It has been in bins 
at Castle Lewin since '47, and is mellow 
enough to please any taste." 

So it was, being pale in colour and appa- 
rently mild and harmless as water. I drank 
a couple of glasses, but when the bottle 
was passed to me a third time, refused any 

" I never exceed two glasses," I said, " and 
perhaps as we have a good deal to do and to 
see " 

" I understand," said Mrs. Kruse, who was 
still seated at the table. "We will have 
coffee brought to us in my husband's study ; 
shall we go there now ? " She rose as she 
spoke, and we followed her out of the room. 
We crossed the hall, where the fire still 
smouldered on the hearth, and entered a 
large, low-ceiled room at the opposite side. 
Here lamps were lit, and curtains drawn ; 
the place looked snug and cheerful. 

" We may as well look over your document 
before we repair to the laboratories, Mr. 
Gilchrist," said Kruse. " I gather from what 
you said in town that you do not care to 
impart any of your knowledge to us until we 
have signed the agreement." 

" I have brought it with me," I answered ; 
" with your permission I will go and fetch it." 

I left the room, went up to my bedroom, 
took my lawyer's hastily-prepared agreement 
from its place in my suit-case, and returned 
to the study. As I did so, the following 
words fell upon my ears : — 

" It will be the third cup, Carl — you will 
not forget ? " 

I could not hear Kruse's reply, but the 
words uttered by his wife struck on my ears 
for a fleeting moment with a sense of 
curiosity — then I forgot all about them. 
The full meaning of that apparently innocent 
sentence was to return to me later. 

Lewin, who was standing on the hearth 
with his hands behind him, motioned me to 
a chair. Mrs. Kruse sat down by the table 
— she leant her elbows on it, revealing the 
pretty contour of her rounded arms, her eyes 
were bright, her cheeks slightly flushed— she 
certainly was a very pretty young woman ; 
but now, as I gave her a quick, keen glance, 
I observed for the first time a certain hard- 
ness round the lines of her mouth, and also 
a steely gleam irr \h% blue of her eyes which 
made me believe- ,*f r iusfc LpossTble that she 


might have another side to her character. 
As I looked at her she returned my gaze 
fully and steadily— then raising her voice she 
spoke with some excitement. 

"Carl/* she said, " Mr. Gilchrist is ready, 
and we have no time to lose. Remember 
that to-night, if all goes well, we perfect the 
great explosive. Now, then, to work/ 5 

" Here is the agreement," I said, taking the 


lawyer's document out of its blue envelope — 
" will you kindly read it ? We can then affix 
our signatures, and the matter is arranged." 

Kruse was the first to read the document 
I watched his eyes as they travelled with 
great speed over the writing. Then he drew 
up his chair to the table, and dipped his pen 
in ink preparatory to signing his signature, 

" Hold a moment," I said ; " we ought to 
call in a servant to witness this." 

A slightly startled look flitted across Mrs, 
Kr use's face, hut after an instant's hesitation 
she rose and rang the bell. 

The footman appeared— he watched us 
as we put our names at the end of the 
paper, and then added his own signature 
underneath. When he had left the room 
Kruse spoke. 

11 Now that matter is settled," he said, 
"and we can set to work. You know, I 
think, Mr, Gilchrist, exactly how far we have 
gone." Here he produced his pocket-book 
and began to read aloud. 

I listened attentively — Mrs. Kruse and 
Lewin stood near — J noticed that Mrs, Kruse 
breathed a little quicker than usual; her 


breath seemed now and then to come from 
her body with a sort of pant. 

" At this point we are stuck," said Kruse, 
pulling up short ; " we have tried every 
known method, but we cannot overcome this 

" And for the success of the experiment," 
I interrupted, " it is almost an initial know- 

M Quite so, quite so," said I^ewin, 
I can put you right/ 1 I said; 
" you are working with a wrong 
formula — you do not know, per- 
haps" — I then began to explain to 
them the action of a substance as yet 
never used in the 
combination in 
which I had 
worked it I was 
interrupted in my 
speech by Kruse. 
"Anna, "he said, 
"get paper. Write 
down slowly and 
carefully every 
word that Mr. Gil- 
christ says. Now, 
then, sir, we are 
ready to listen. 
Are you all right, 

"Quite," she 

I began to explain away the main difficulty, 
Mrs, Kruse wrote down my words one by one 
as they fell from my lips. Now and then she 
raised her eyes to question me, and her use 
of technical terms showed me that she was 
completely at home with the subject 

II By Jove ! Why did we not think of that 
for ourselves?" said I,ewin, interlarding his 
remark with a great oath. 

lt We are extremely obliged to you, Mr, 
Gilchrist," said Kruse, "This sweeps away 
every difficulty, the discovery is complete." 

" Complete ? I can scarcely believe it," 
said Mrs. Kruse. 

At this moment the servant entered with 
coffee ; it was laid on the table, and we each 
took a cup. 

" You told me," I said, when I had drained 
off the contents of the tiny cup which had 
been presented to me, " that you have failed 
in this initial difficulty, and yet you have con- 
quered in a matter which baffles me." I 
then named the point beyond which I could 
not get. 

" Yes, we certainly know all about that," 
said Kruse. Origin a (from 




" You will give me your information ? " 
" Of course, but the best way of doing so 
is by showing you the experiment itself." 
"That will do admirably/' 1 replied* 
"If you are ready we will go now," said 
Mrs. Kruse. 

She started up as she spoke, and led the 

We left the study, and, going down some 
passages, found ourselves in the open air 
We were now in a square yard, surrounded on 
all sides by buildings* Lewin walked first, 
carrying the lantern. Its light fell upon an 
object which caused me to start with sur- 
prise. This was nothing less than a balloon 
about twenty feet 

in diameter, which 
was tied down with 
ropes and securely 
fastened to an iron 
ring in the pave- 
ment It swayed 
to and fro in the 
gusts of wind. 

M Halloa!" I 
cried, in astonish- 
ment* Cl what is 

" Our favourite 
chariot/' answered 
Mrs. Kruse, with 
a laugh. " Wait 
a moment, Paul, 
won't you ? I want 
to show our balloon to 
Mr. Gilchrist Is it not 
a beauty?" she added, 
looking in my face. 

" I do not see any 
car," I replied. 

*' The car happens 
to he out of order. You 
do not know, perhaps, 
Mr, Gilchrist, that I 
am an accomplished 
aeronaut I do not 
think I enjoy anything 
more than my sail in 
the air. It was only last 
Monday M 

41 My dear Anna, if 
you get on that theme 
we shall not reach the laboratories to-night/ 1 
interrupted her husband. "This wav, please, 
Mr. Gilchrist/ 5 

He opened a door as he spoke, and I 
found myself in a large laboratory fitted up 
with the usual appliances. 

Kruse and his companion, Lewin, began 


to show mc round, and Mrs. Kruse stood 
somewhere near the entrance. 

The laboratory was full of a very disagree- 
able smell — Kruse remarked on this, and 
began to explain it away, 

11 We were making experiments until a late 
hour this afternoon," he said, li with some iso- 
cyanides, and as you are aware, the smell from 
such is almost overpowering, but we thought 
it would have cleared away by now." 

" I hope you don't mind it? " said Lewin, 

" I know it well, of course," I answered, 
*" but it has never affected me as it does 
now\ The fact is, I feel quite dizzy." As I 
spoke I reeled slightly and put my hand to 
my head. 

"The smell is abominable," said Kruse, 
" Come to this side of the laboratory ; you 
may be better if you 
get nearer the door." 

I followed my host. 

II What is the matter 
with you, Mr. Gil- 
christ?" said Mrs. 
Kruse, the moment 
she looked at rny face. 

" It is those fumes, 
my dear," said her 
husband ; " they are 
affecting Mr. Gilchrist 
in a curious way— he 
says he feels quite 

" I do/* I answered, 
" My head is giddy ; it 
may be partly the long 

"Then I tell you 
what," said the 
wife, in an eager 
voice, " you shall 
not be worried with 
any more experi 
ments to-night* 
The best thing 
you can do is to 
go straight to bed, 
and then in the 
morning the labo- 
ratory will be fresh 
and wholesome, 
Carl and Paul 
Lewin will experiment for you in the morn- 
ing to your heart's content." 

"Yes, really it is the best thing to do/ 1 
said Kruse. 

I sank down on a bench. 

" I believe you are right/* I said. 

My sensations puxikd me not a little. 





When I entered the laboratory I was full of 
the keenest enthusiasm for the moment when 
Kruse and his companion should sweep 
away the last obstacle towards the perfecting 
of the grand explosive — now it seemed to me 
that I did not care whether I ever learned 
their secret or not. The explosive itself and 
all that it meant might go to the bottom of 
the sea as far as I was concerned. I only 
longed to lay my throbbing and giddy head 
on my pillow. 

" I will take your advice," I said. " It is 
quite evident that in my tired state these 
fumes must be having a direct and poisoning 
efifect upon me." 

" Come with me," said Kruse ; " you must 
not stay a moment longer in this place." 

I bade Mrs. Kruse and Lewin good-night, 
and Kruse, conducting me through the yard 
where the balloon was fastened, took me to 
my bedroom. The fire burned here cheer- 
fully — the bed was turned down, the snowy 
sheets and befiilled pillows seemed to invite 
me to repose. I longed for nothing more in 
all the world than to lay my head on my 

" Good -night," said Kruse — he held out 
his hand, looking fixedly at me as he spoke. 
The next moment he had left the room. 

I sank into a chair when he was gone, and 
thought as well as I could of the events of 
the evening, but my head was in such a whirl 
that I found I could not think consecutively. 
I threw off my coat and, without troubling 
to undress, lay down and fell into a dteep and 
dreamless slumber. 

" Have you got the hydrogen and chlorine 

These words, whispered rapidly, fell upon 
my ears with distinctness. They did not 
disturb me, for I thought they were part of a 
dream ; I had a curious unwillingness to 
open my eyes or to arouse myself— an unac- 
countable lethargy was over me, but I felt 
neither frightened nor unhappy. I knew 
that I was on a visit to Lewin and Kruse in 
Cornwall, and I believed myself to be lying 
on the bed where I had fallen into such heavy 
slumber some hours ago. I felt that I had 
slept very deeply, but I was unwilling to 
awake yet, or stir in any way. It is true I 
heard people bustling about, and presently a 
vessel of some kind fell to the floor with a loud 
clatter. A woman's voice said, " Hush, it will 
arouse him," and then a man made a reply 
which I could not catch. My memory went on 
working calmly and steadily. I recalled how 
the evening had been passed — the signing of 

the document — the balloon in the yard, the 
horrible smell in the laboratory. Then I 
remembered as if I heard them over again 
Mis. Kruse's words when I returned to the 
study, "It will be the third cup." What did she 
mean? Why should I be bothered with 
this small memory now ? I never wanted to 
sleep as I did at this moment — I had never 
felt so unaccountably, so terribly drowsy. 

" I hope that noise did not wake him," 
said a voice which I knew was no echo of 
memory, but a real voice — I recognised it to 
be that of Mrs. Kruse. 

" He is right enough," replied her husband. 
41 I gave you enough narceine to put into his 
coffee to finish off a stronger and a bigger 
man — don't worry. Yes, Lewin, I will help 
you in a moment to carry him into the yard." 

"The storm is getting less," said Mrs. 
Kruse. u Be quick. Oh, surely he is dead ! " 
she added. 

" If not dead, all but," replied her husband. 
" I tell you I gave him a stiff dose — he never 
moved nor uttered a sigh when we took him 
from his bedroom." 

Lethargic as I undoubtedly was, these last 
words had the effect of making me open my 
eyes. I did so, blinking with the stupor which 
was oppressing me. I stared vacantly round 
me. Where was I?— what had happened? 
My limbs felt as if weighted with lead, and I 
now experienced for the first time since I had 
heard the voices an unaccountable difficulty 
in stirring them. I tried to raise my hand, 
and then I was conscious of a hideous pang 
— the knowledge flashed across me that I 
was bound hand and foot. I was, then, the 
victim of foul play — but, good God ! what ? 
What awful discovery had I just made ? My 
memory was becoming quite active, but my 
whole body felt numbxl and dulled into a 
lethargy which almost a counted to paralysis. 
Making a great effort, I forced myself to 
turn my head. As I did so a woman's face 
peered down into mine. It was the face of 
my hostess, Mrs. Kruse. She turned quickly 

" He is not dead," I heard her whisper; 
" he is coming to." 

At that moment I knew where I was— I 
was lying on the floor of the laboratory. 
How had I got there — what was about to 
happen ? I found my voice. 

11 For God's sake, what is the matter ? " I 
cried ; " where am I ? Is that you, Mrs. 
Kruse ? What has happened ? " 

The moment I spoke, Mrs. Kruse stepped 
behind me, so that, bound as I was, I could 
no longer see her face or figure. The light 




in the -laboratory was very dim, and just 
then the huge form of Lewis came 
between me and it. Hi: bent over me, and, 
putting his hand under my shoulders, lifted 
me to a sitting posture — at the same moment 
Kruse took hold of my feet In that fashion, 
without paying the slightest attention to my 
words, they carried me into the yard where 
the balloon was fastened* The contact with 
the open air immediately made me quite 
wide awake, and a fear took possession of me 
which threatened to rob me of my reason. 

"What are you doing? Why am I bound 
in this fashion ? Why don't you speak ? " I 

They were dumb, as though I had not 
uttered a word. I struggled madly, writhing 
in mv bonds. 

" Mrs. Kruse," I cried out, " I know you 
are there, As you are a woman, have mercy ; 
tell niewhat this unaccountable thing means. 
Why am I tied hand and foot? If you really 
mean to kill me t for God's sake put me out 
of my misery at once/' 

£1 Huld your tongue, or I'll dash your 
brains out/ 1 said the ruffian I>ewin, "Anna, 
step hack. Now, Carl, bring the ropes 

As the brute spoke he flung me with 
violence upon a plank, which ran across the 
iron hoop to which the meshes of 
the great balloon were attached* 1 
struggled to free myself, but in my 
bound condition was practically 

41 What are you 
doing ? Speak ; 
tell me the worst," 
I said, I was gasp- 
ing with terror, 
and a cold sweat 
had burst out in 
every pore, 

u If you want 
to know the worst, 
it is this : you are 
going to carry 
your secret to the 
stars/'said Lewin. 
" Not another 
word, or Til put 
an end to you on 
the spot." 

As he spoke he 
and his com- 
panion began 10 
lash me firmly to 
the plank. My 
hands, which 

were already tied together round the wrists, 
w r ere drawn up over my head and fastened 
securely by means of a rope to one end 
of the plank ; my feet were secured in a 
similar manner to the other. Just at this 
instant a sudden bright flash of lightning lit 
up the yard, and I caught sight of a large 
dumb bell-shaped glass flask, and also what 
appeared to be a tin canister. These 
Kruse held in his hand and proceeded, with 
Lewi ii T s assistance, to fasten round the outer 
side of the plank, just under where I was 
lying. They were kept in their places by an 
iron chain. As soon as this operation was over 
I^ewin began to slash away at the ropes which 
kept the balloon in the yard, I now found 
myself lying stretched out flat, unable to move 
a single inch, staring up at the great balloon 
which towered above me. It was just at 
that supreme moment of agony, amid the 
roaring of the gale, that Mrs, Kruse, coming 
softly behind me t whispered something in my 

u I give you one chance," she said ; " the 
loop which binds your hands to the plank is 
single." She said nothing more, but stepped 

The nest instant, amid a frightful roar of 
thunder, the balloon was lifted from its 
moorings and shot up into the night. As it 





cleared the buildings the full force of the 
gale caught it, and I felt myself being swept 
up with terrible velocity into the very heart 
of the storm. Blinding flashes of lightning 
played around me on every side, while the 
peals of thunder merged into one continuous, 
deafening roar. Up and up I flew, with the 
wind screaming through the meshes of the 
net-work and threatening each moment to 
tear the balloon to fluttering ribbons. Then, 
almost before I was aware of it, I found 
myself gazing up at a wonderful, star-flecked 
firmament, and was drifting in what seemed 
to be a breathless calm. I heard the thunder 
pealing away below me, and was conscious of 
bitter cold. The terrible sense of paralysis 
and inertia had now, to a great extent, left 
me, and my reason began to re-assert itself. 
I was able to review the whole situation. 
I not only knew where I was, but I also 
knew what the end must be. 

c% Hydrogen and chlorine," I muttered to 
myself. " The dumb-bell-shaped glass vessel 
which is fastened under the plank contains, 
without doubt, these two gases, and the tin 
canister which rests beneath them is full 
of nitro-glycerine." Yes, I knew what this 
combination meant. When the first glint 
of the sun's rays struck upon the glass vessel 
it would be instantly shattered. The nitro- 
glycerine would explode by the concussion, and 
the balloon and I myself would be blown into 
impalpable dust beyond sight or sound of the 

This satanic scheme for my destruction 
had been planned by the fiends in human 
shape who had lured me to Cornwall. 
Having got «my secret from me, they meant to 
destroy all trace of my existence. The deadly 
poison of narceine had been introduced into 
my coffee. I knew well the action of that 
pernicious alkaloid, and now perceived that the 
smell in the laboratory had nothing whatever 
to do with my unaccountable giddiness and 
terrible inertia. Narceine would, in short, 
produce all the symptoms from which I had 
suffered, and would induce so sound and 
deadly a sleep that I could be moved from 
my bed without awakening. Yes, the ruffians 
had made their plans carefully, and all had 
transpired according to their wishes. There 
was absolutely no escape for me. With 
insane fury I tore at my bonds. The ropes 
only cut into the flesh of my hands, that 
was all. 

The storm had now passed quite out of 
hearing, and I found myself in abrolute still- 
ness and silence. I was sailing away to my 
death at the dawn of day. So awful were the 

emotions in my breast that I almost .wished 
that death would hasten in order to end my 
sufferings. Why had not the hydrogen and 
chlorine exploded when I was passing 
through the storm? Why had the light- 
ning not been merciful enough to hurry 
my death ? Under ordinary circumstances 
they would certainly have combined if they 
had been subjected to so much actinic light 
I could not account for my escape, until I 
suddenly remembered that in all probability 
the stop-cock between the two gases in the 
dumb-bell-shaped glass had only been turned 
just when the balloon was sent off, in which 
case the gases would not have had time to 
diffuse properly for explosion. 

At the dawn 01 day the deadly work would 
be complete. The question now was this — 
how long had I to live, and was there any 
possible means of escape ? 

The action of the drug had now nearly 
worn off, and I was able to think with acute- 
ness and intelligence. I recalled Mrs. 
Kruse's strange parting words, "The loop 
which binds your hands to the plank is single." 
What did she mean ? After all, it was little 
matter to me how I was bound, for I could 
not stir an inch. Nevertheless, her words 
kept returning to me, and suddenly as I 
pondered over them I began to see a mean- 
ing. The loop was single. This, of course, 
meant that the cord was only passed once 
round the rope straps which secured my 
wrists together. I nearly leapt as I lay upon my 
hard and cruel bed, for at this instant a vivid 
memory returned to me. Years ago I had 
exposed a spiritualist who had utilized a 
similar contrivance to deceive his audience. 
His wrists had been firmly tied together, and 
then a single loop was passed between them, 
and fastened to a beam above his head. He 
had been able to extricate himself by means 
of a clever trick. I knew how he had done 
it. Was it possible that my murderous hosts 
had tied my hands to the plank in a similar 
manner ? If so, notwithstanding their sharp- 
ness, what an oversight was theirs ! 

In desperate excitement I began to work 
the cord between my wrists up and up 
between my palms until I could just reach it 
with my little finger, and by a supreme effort 
slipped it over my left hand. Great God, I 
was free ! I could now move my hands, 
although they were still tightly tied together 
round the wrists. In frantic despair I began 
to tug and tear at the cords which bound 
them. Cutting hard with my teeth, I at last 
managed to liberate my hands, and then my 
next intention was to unfasten the horrible 



explosive from the plank. Here, however, I 
was met hy what seemed to be an insuper- 
able difficulty, The glass vessel and the tin 
canister had been secured round the plank 
by means of a chain, which was lashed in 
such a manner that by no possible means 
could I undo it. I was now free to move, but 
the means of destruction were still close to me. 
How long had I before the sun would rise ? 
Even now the light in the heavens was getting 
stronger and stronger, What should I do ? 
My hands were free and I could sit up. In 
ancther moment I had managed to untie the 
cords from my legs, And then, with many a 
slip and struggle, I contrived to clamber up the 
network till 1 came to the balloon itself, when 
I set to work to tear at the silk with my nails 
and teeth like a man possessed. After almost 
superhuman efforts, I managed to make a 
very small hole in the silk. This I enlarged 
first with my finger and then with my whole 
hand, tearing away the silk in doing so till I had 
made a huge rent in the side of the balloon. 
As soon as this 
happened, I 
knew that the 
balloon would 
slowly, but 
surely, begin to 
descend. The 
question now 
was this : how 
soon would the 
sun rise ? Per- 
haps in an hour, 
but I thought 
sooner. The 
murderous ex- 
plosive was so 
secured to the 
plank that there 
was not the smallest chance 
of my getting rid of it. My 
one and only chance of life 
was to reach the ground 
before the sun got up. If 
this did not happen, I should 
be blown to atoms. 

The stars were already 
growing faint in the heavens, 
and, sitting on the plank, 
holding the meshes of the 
balloon on either side, I 
ventured to look below me, 
I saw, with a slight feeling 
of relief, that the wind mast have changed, 
for, instead of being blown seawards, as was 
doubtless the intention of my murderers, I 
had gone a considerable way inland, I 

could see objects, trees, villages, solitary 
houses dotted in kaleidoscope pattern beneath 
me — it seemed to me as 1 gazed that the world 
was coming up to meet me. Each moment 
the trees, the houses, assumed more definite 
shape. Within a quarter of an hour I saw 
that I was only about six hundred feet from 
a large park into which I was descending* 

A grey, pearly tint was now over every- 
thing—this, moment ty moment, assumed a 
rose hue, I knew by past experience that in 
five minutes at the farthest the sun would 
rise, and striking its light across the 
glass vessel would hurl me into eternity. 
In an agony of mind, I once more 
directed all my attention to the terrible 
explosive. I knew that in this fearful race 
between me and the sun, the sun must win 
unless I could do something — but, what ? 
That was the question which haunted me to 
the verge of madness. I was without my 
coat, having been lashed on to the plank in 
my shirt, or I might have tried to cover 
the dumbbell glass from the fatal 
light. The feasibility of breaking 
the glass vessel, and so allowing 
the gases to escape, also occurred 
to me for an instant, but I was 
afraid to try it — first, because 
I had only my fists to break 
it with \ and 
second, if I did, 
the blow might 
explode the 
nitro -glycerine. 
Suddenly I 
uttered a shout 
which was al- 
most that of a 
crazy person. 
What a fool I 
was not to have 
noticed it be- 
fore—there was 
a means of de- 
liverance. By 
no possible 
method could I 
unfasten the 
iron chain which 
secured the in- 
fernal machine 
to the plank, but 
the plank itself 
might be un- 
shipped, I observed that it was secured to the 
iron hoop by thick nnd clumsy knots of rope. 
With all the speed I could muster, for seconds 
were now precious, I gently worked the chain 





along the plank till it and the infernal 
machine had reached one end. I noticed 
with joy that here the chain was loose, as the 
plank was thinner. Seating myself on the 
hoop and clinging to the meshes with one 
hand, I tore and tugged away at the knots 
which secured the plank with the other. 
Merciful God ! they were giving way ! In 
another instant the plank fell, hanging to the 
hoop at the opposite side, and as it did so, 
the infernal machine slipped from the free 
end and fell, 

I was now within 300ft- of the earth, 
and, clinging for bare life to the meshes of 
the balloon, I looked below. There was a 
sudden flash and a deafening roar. In mid- 
air, as it fell, the machine exploded, for the 
sun had just risen. In another moment my 
feet had brushed the too of a huge elm tree, 
and I found myself 
close to the ground. 
Seizing the oppor- 
tunity of open space 
I sprang from the bal- 
loon, falling heavily on 
the wet grass. 

The instant I left 
it, the balloon, relieved 
from my weight, shot 
up again into space, 
and was lost to view 
behind the trees. I 
watched it disappear, 
and then conscious- 
ness forsook nie. 

I was picked up by 
a ga me - keeper, w h o 
conveyed me to 
his own cottage, 
where I was well 
and carefully 
nursed, for the 
exposure and 

shock which I had undergone induced a 
somewhat severe illness. When the fever 
which had rendered me delirious abated, my 
memory came fully back, and I was able -to 
give a faithful and circumstantial account of 
what had occurred to a neighbouring magis- 
trate. Immediately on hearing my story, the 
superintendent of police in London was 
telegraphed to, and a detachment of his men 
went to Castle Lew in, but they found the 
place absolutely deserted* My would-be 
murderers had beyond doubt received news 
of my miraculous escape and had decamped, 
I have only one thing more to say. On 
my return to London, amongst a pile of 
letters which awaited me, was one which I 
could not peruse without agitation ; it ran 
as follows ;— 

" You acted on my hint, and have escaped 
truly as if by a miracle* 
We are about to leave 
the country, and you 
will in all probability 
never hear anything of 
us again. But it gives 
me pleasure even in 
this crucial moment to 
let you know how 
easily you can be 
duped Have you ever 
guessed how we got 
possession of that 
secret which was all 
yours and never ours ? 
Do you recall the lady 
who, dressed as a nun, came to see 
you about six or seven months ago ? 
You believed her story, did you not ? 
May I give you one word of warning ? 
In future, do not leave your alpha- 
betically arranged note-books in a 
room to which strangers may possibly 
have access. Farewell." 


by Google 

Original from 

Life on a Greenland Whaler. 

By A. Conan DotLE. 


Capt D. Graj. Mr. It Smith. 

Dr, DqySft, C&pt. .T, (3ntf. 


G, W, Wkor. Dr, NcaOe. 


T has been my good fortune to 
have an experience of a life 
which is already extinct, for 
although whale - ships, both 
English and American, still go 
to Davis' Strait, the Greenland 
fishing — that is, the fishing in the waters 
between Greenland and Spitsbergen has 
been attended with such ill-fortune during 
the last ten years that it has now been 
abandoned. The Hope and the Eclipse-, both 
of Peterhead, were the last two vessels which 
clung to an industry which was once so 
flourishing that it could support a fleet of a 
hundred sail ; and it was in the Hope, under 
the command of the well-known whaler, John 
Gray, that I paid a seven months' visit to 
the Arctic Seas in the year 1880. I went in 
the capacity of surgeon, but as I was only 
twenty years of age when I started, and as 
my knowledge of medicine was that of an 
average third year's student, I have often 
thought that it was as well that there was no 
very serious call upon my services- 

It aime about in this way. One raw after- 
noon in Edinburgh, whilst I was sitting 
reading hard for one of those examinations 
which blight the life of a medical student, 

there entered to me a fellow-student with 
whom I had some slight acquaintance. The 
monstrous question which he asked drove all 
thought of my studies out of my head. 

(l Would you care," said he, * £ to start 
next week for a whaling cruise? You'll be 
surgeon, two pound ten a month and three 
shillings a ton oil money." 

" How do you know I'll get the berth?" 
was my natural question. 

" Because I 'have it myself. I find at 
this last moment that I can't go, and I want 
to get a man to take my place." 

" How about an Arctic kit ? " 

" You can have mine." 

Iit an instant the thing was settled, and 
within a few minutes the current of my life 
had been deflected into a new channel 

In little more than a week I was in 
Peterhead, and busily engaged, with the 
help of the steward, in packing away my 
scanty l>elongings in the locker beneath my 
hunk on the good ship Hope, And thisj 
my first appearance aboard the ship, was 
marked by an absurd incident. In my student 
days boxing was a favourite amusement of 
mine, for I had found that when reading hard 
one can compress rriore exercise into a short 

Copyright, ¥ Bg 7 , by A. Conan Doyl*. in ^fff^^^^PWIflHIGA N 



time in this way than 
in any other. Among 
my belongings there- 
fore were two pairs of 
battered and dis- 
coloured gloves. Now, 
it chanced that the 
steward was a bit of a 
hunting man, so when 
my unpacking was 
finished, he, of his 
own accord, picked 
up the gloves and 
proposed that we 
should then and there 
have a bout, I don't 
know whether Jack 
l-amb still lives— but 
if he does I am sure 
that he remembers 
the incident. I can see 
him now, blue eyed, 
yeliow-bearded, short 
but deep - chested, 
with the bandy legs of 
a very muscular man. 

From *\ , 


Our contest ivas an un- 

fair one, for he was several inches shorter in 
the reach than I, and knew nothing about 
sparring, although I have no doubt he 
(vis a formidable person in a street row, 
I kept propping him off as he rushed at me, 
and at last, finding that he was determined 
to bore his way in, I had to hit him out with 
some severity. An hour or so afterwards, as 
I .sat reading in the saloon, there was a murmur 
in the mate's berth, which was next door, and 
suddenly I heard the steward say, in loud 
tones of conviction : " So help me, Colin, 
he's the best surrr-geon we've had ! He's 

blackened my e'e ! " 
It was the first {and 
very nearly the last) 
testimonial that I ever 
received to my pro- 
fessional abilities* 

He was a good 
fellow, the steward, 
and as I look back 
at that long voyage, 
during which for seven 
months we never set 
our feet upon land, 
his kindly, open face 
is one of those of 
which I like to think* 
He had a very beau- 
tiful and sympathetic 
tenor voice, and many 
an hour have 1 
listened to it, with its 
accompaniment of 
rattling plates and 
jingling knives, as he 
cleaned up the dishes 
in his pantry. He knew a great store of 
pathetic; and sentimental songs, and it is only 
when you have not seen a woman's face for 
six months that you realize what sentiment 
means. When Jack trilled out " Her 
Bright Smile Haunts Me Still/' or " Wait 
for Me at Heavens (rate, Sweet Belle 
Mahone," he filled us all with a vague, 
sweet discontent, which comes hack to me 
now as I think of it- As to his boxing, 
he practised with me every day, and became 
a formidable opponent especially when 
there was a sea on, when, with his 
more experienced sea-legs, he could come 




VuL xiiu--3p 






charging down with the heel of the ship. 
He was a baker by trade, and I dare say 
Greenland is as much a dream to him now 
as it is to me. 

There was one curious thing about the 
manning of the Hope. The man who signed 
on as first mate was a little, decrepit, broken 
fellow, absolutely incapable of performing the 
duties. The cook's assistant, on the other 
hand, was a giant of a man, red-bearded, 
bronzed, with huge limbs, and a voice of 
thunder. But the moment that the ship 
cleared the harbour the little, decrepit mate 
disappeared into the cook's galley, and acted 
as scullery-boy for the voyage, while the mighty 
scullery- boy walked aft and became chief 
mate. The fact was, 
that the one had the 
certificate j but was 
past tailoring, while 
theothercould neither 
read nor write, but 
was as fine a seaman 
as ever lived \ so, by 
an agreement to which 
everybody concerned 
was party, they swap- 
ped their berths when 
they were at sea. 

Colin McLean, with 
his six foot of stature, 
his erect, stalwart 
figure, and his fierce, 
red beard, pouring out 
from between the flaps 
of his sealing-cap, was 
an officer by natural 
selection, which is a 
higher title than that 
of a Board of Trade 
certificate. His only 
fault was that he was a very hot-blooded 
man, and that a little would excite him to 
a frenzy* I have a vivid recollect ion of an 
evening which I spent in dragging him off 
from the steward, who had imprudently made 
some criticism upon his way of attacking a 
whale which had escaped- Both men had 
had some rum, which had made the one 
argumentative and the other violent, and as 
we were all three seated in a space of about 
seven by four, it took some hard work to 
prevent bloodshed. Every now and then, 
just as I thought all danger was past, the 
steward would begin again with his fatuous, 
11 No offence, Colin, but all I says is that if 
you had been a bit quicker oji the fush- — 7J 
1 don't know how often this sentence was 
begun, but never once wa: 


From a J'hutif r hy J r SkU&t, Pttevhtwk, 


the word " fush " Colin always seized 
him by the throat, and I Colin round 
the waist, and we struggled until we 
were all panting and exhausted. Then 
when the steward had recovered a little 
breath he would start that miserable 
sentence once more, and the " fush " 
would be the signal for another encounter. 
I really believe that if I had not been 
there the mate would have killed him, for 
he was quite the angriest man) that I have 
ever seen* 

There were fifty men upon our whaler, of 
whom half were Scotchmen and half Shet- 
landers, whom we picked up at Lerwick as 
we passed. TheShetlanderswerethesteadier 

and more tractable, 
quiet, decent, and 
soft-spoken ; while the 
Scotch seamen were 
more likely to give 
trouble, but also 
more virile and of 
s t ronge r character. 
The officers and har- 
pooners were all 
Scotch, but as ordi- 
nary seamen, and 
especially as boatmen, 
the Shetlanders were 
as good as could be 

There was only one 
man on board who 
belonged neither to 
Scotland nor to Shet- 
land, and he was the 
mystery of the ship. 
He was a tall, swarthy, 
dark-eyed man, with 
blue-black hair and 
beard, singularly handsome features, and 
a curious reckless sling of his shoulders 
when he walked. It was rumoured that he 
came from the South of England, and that he 
had fled thence to avoid the law. He made 
friends with no one, and spoke very seldom, 
but he was one of the smartest seamen in 
the ship, I could believe from his appearance 
that his temper was Satanic, and that the 
crime for which he was hiding may have 
been a bloody one* Only once he gave us a 
glimpse of his hidden fires. The cook— a 
very burly, powerful man— the little mate was 
only assistant — had a private store of rum, 
and treated himself so liberally to it that for 
three successive days the dinner of the crew 
was ruined. On the third day our silent out- 
law approached trie cook with a brass sauce- 




*Vg*t I « ] 

Tllfc HAKJiHJM*^ In J AT. 

pan in his hand. 
He said nothing, 
but he struck the 
man such a fright- 
ful blow that his 
head flew through 
ihe bottom, and 
the sides of the 
pan were It it 
dmgiing round 
bis neck. The 
half-drunken and 
half-stunned cook 
talked of fighting, 
but he was soon 
made to feel that 
the sympathy of 
the ship was 
against him, so he reeled back grumbling to 
bis duties, while the avenger relapsed into 
his usual moody indifference. We heard no 
farther complaints about the cooking- 
There are eight boats on board a whaler, 
but it is usual to send out only seven, for 
it takes six men each to man them, so that 
when the seven are out no one is left on 
board except the so-called " idlers," who 
have not signed to do seamen's work at 
.ill. It happened, however, that on board 
the Hope the ** idlers " were an excep- 
tionally active and energetic lot, so we 
volunteered to man the eighth boat, and we 
made it, in our own estimation at least, 
one of the most efficient both in sealing 
and in whaling. The steward, the second 
engineer, the donkey - engine man, and I 
pulled the oars, with a red-headed High- 
lander for harpooner, and the handsome 
outlaw to steer. 
Our tally of seals 
stood as high 
as any; and in 
whaling we were 
once the harpoon- 
ing and once 
the lancing boat, 
*o our record 
was an excellent 
one. So congenial 
was the work to 
me, that Captain 
dray was good 
enough to offer to 
make me har- 
pooner as well 
as surgeon if I 
would come with 
him upon a 
second voyage, 

I I'htUfU mjuA. 

with power to 
draw the double 
pay. It is as well 
that I refused, for 
the life is such a 
fascinating one 
that I could im- 
agine that a man 
would find it 
more and more 
difficult to give 
it up. Most of 
the crew are 
never called upon 
to do so, for they 
spend their whole 
lives in the same 
trade. There 
were men on board the Hapt who had never 
seen corn growing, for from their boyhood 
they had always started for the whaling in 
March and returned in September. 

One of the charms of the work is the 
gambling element which is inherent in it. 
Every man shares in the profit — so much for 
the captain, so much for the mate, so much 
for the seaman. If the voyage is successful, 
everyone is rich until another spring comes 
round, It the ship comes home clean, it 
means a starvation winter for all hands. 
The men do not need to be told to be 
keen. The shout from the crow's-nest 
which tells of the presence of a whale, and 
the rattle of the falls as the boats are 
cleared away, blend into one sound. The 
watch below rush up from their bunks with 
their clothes over their arms and spring into 
the boats in that Arctic air, waiting for a 

chance later for 
finishing their 
toilet Woe be- 
tide the har- 
pooner or the 
boat-steerer who 
by any clumsi- 
ness has missed 
a fish ! He has 
taken a five- 
pound note out 
of the pocket of 
every meanest 
hand upon the 
ship. Black is 
his welcome 
when he returns 
to his fellows. 

\V h a t sur- 
prised me most 
'in the Arctic 




regions was the rapidity with which you reach 
them. I had never realized that they lie at 
our very doors. I think that we were only 
four days out from Shetland when we were 
among the drift ice. 1 awoke of a morning 
to hear the hump, bump of the floating pieces 
against the side of the ship, and 1 went on 
deck to see the whole sea covered with them 
to the horizon. They were none of them 
large, but they lay so thick that a man might 
travel far by springing from one to the other. 
Their dazzling whiteness made the sea seem 
bluer by contrast, and with a blue sky above, 
and that glorious Arcticair in one's nostrils, it 
was a morning to remember. Once on one 

come together at a variable spot, whirh is 
evidently pre-arranged among them, and as 
this place may be anywhere within many 
hundreds of square miles of floating ice, 
it is no easy matter for the fisher to find it. 
The means by which he sets about it are 
simple but ingenious. As the ship makes its 
way through the loose ice-streams, a school of 
seals is observed travelling tmough the water. 
Their direction is carefully taken by compass 
and marked upon the chart An hour after- 
wards perhaps another school is seen. This 
is also marked. When these bearings have 
been taken several times, the various lines 
upon the chart are prolonged until they 





of the swaying, rocking pieces we saw a huge 
sealj sleek, sleepy, and imperturbable, looking 
up with the utmost assurance at the ship, as 
if it knew that the close time had still three 
weeks to run. Further on we saw on the 
ice the long, humanlike prints of a bear. 
All this with the snowdrops of Scotland still 
fresh in our glasses in the cabin. 

I have spoken about the close time, and 
I may explain that, by an agreement between 
the Norwegian and the British Governments, 
the subjects of both nations are forbidden to 
kill a seal before the 3rd of April. The 
reason for this is, that the breeding season is 
in March, and if the mothers should be 
killed before the young are able to take care 
of themselves, the race would soon become 
Kxtinet. For breeding purposes, the seals all 

intersect. At this point, or near it, it is likely 
that the main pack of the seals will be found. 
When you do come upon it, it is a 
wonderful sight, I suppose it is the largest 
assembly of creatures upon the face of the 
world — and this upon the open ice-fields 
hundreds of miles from Greenland coast. 
Somewhere between 7ideg. and Jsdeg, is 
the rendezvous, and the longitude is even 
vaguer; but the seals have no difficulty in 
finding the address. From the crowVnest 
at the top of the main -mast, one 
end of them. On the furthest 
one can still see that sprinkling 
grains* And the young lie everywhere also, 
snow-white slugs, with a little black nose and 
large, dark_.eye$- Their half-human cries fill 
the air; antf^iW^felffie sitting in the cabin 


can see no 
visible ice 
of pepper 



From a} 

of a ship which is in 
pack, you would think 
a monstrous nursery* 

The Hope was one 
seal - pack thai 
year, but before 
the day came 
when hunting 
was allowed, we 
had a succession 
of strong gales, 
followed by a 
severe roll, which 
tilted the floating 
ice and launched 
the young seals 
prematurely into 
the water. And 
so, when the law 
at last allowed 
us to begin work, 
Nature had left 
us with very little 
work to do. How- 
ever, at dawn 
upon the third, 
the ship's com- 
pany took to the 
ice, and began 
to gather in its 
murderous har- 
vest It is brutal 
work, though not 
more brutal than 
that which gotfs 



the heart of the seal- 
you were next door to 

of the first to find the 

onto supply every dinner-table in the country. 
And yet those glaring crimson pools upon 
the dazzling white of the ice-fields, under 
the peaceful silence of a blue Arctic sky, did 

seem a horrilik- 
1 intrusion. But 
an inexorable 
demand creates 
an inexorable 
supply, and the 
seals, by their 
death, help to 
give a living to 
the long line of 
seamen, dockers, 
tanners, curers, 
triers, chandlers, 
leather mer- 
chants, and oil- 
sellers, who stand 
between this 
annual butchery 
on the one hand, 
and the exquisite, 
with his soft 
leather boots, or 
the savant t using 
a delicate oil for 
his philosophical 
i n s t r u m e n t s, 
upon the other. 

I have cause 
to remember that 
first day of seal- 
ing on account 


FLYING AND CO T ™g UP BLITIW.R wQffljf fft 3 | 



of the adventures which befell me. I 
have said that a strong swell had arisen, 
and as this was dashing the floating ice 
together the captain thought it dangerous 
for an inexperienced man to venture 
upon it And so, just as I was clamber- 
ing over the bulwarks with the rest, he 
ordered me back and told me to remain 
on board. My remonstrances were useless, 
and at last, in the blackest of tempers, I 
seated myself upon the top of the bulwarks, 
with my feet dangling over the outer side, 
and there I nursed my wrath, swinging up 
and down with the roll of the ship. It 
chanced j however, that I was really seated 
upon a thin sheet of ice which had formed 

sealing out of his head, and I had to answer 
to the name of "the great northern diver" 
for a long time thereafter. I had a narrow 
escape once through stepping backwards 
over the edge of a piece of floating ice while 
I was engaged in skinning a seal. I had 
wandered away from the others, and no one 
saw my misfortune. The face of the ice 
was so even that I had no purchase by which 
to pull myself up> and my body was rapidly 
becoming numb in the freezing water. At 
last, however, I caught hold of the hind 
flipper of the dead seal, and there was a kind 
of nightmare tug-of-war, the question being 
whether I should pull the seal off or pull 
myself on, At last, however, I got my knee 


j t*faittwrit*h, 

upon the wood, and so when the swell threw 
her over to a particularly acute angle, I 
shot off and vanished into the sea he t ween 
two ice-blocks. As I rose, I clawed on 
to one of these^ and soon scrambled on 
board again. The accident brought about 
what I wished, however, for the captain 
remarked that as I was bound to fall into 
the ocean in any case, I might just as 
well be on the ice as on the ship. I justified 
his original caution by falling in twice again 
during the day, and I finished it ignumimously 
by having to take to my bed while all my 
clothes were drying in the engine-room. I 
was consoled for my misfortunes by finding 
that they amused the captain to such an 
extent that they drove the ill success of our 

over the edge and rolled on to it I 
remember that my clothes were as hard as a 
suit of armour by the time I reached the 
ship, and that I had to thaw my crackling 
garments before I could change them. 

This April sealing is directed against the 
mothers and young. Then, in May, the 
sealer goes further north ; and about latitude 
77deg. or 78deg. he comes upon the old 
male seals, who are by no means such easy 
victims. They are wary creatures, and it 
takes good long-range shooting to bag them. 
Then, in June, the sealing is over, and the 
ship bears away further north still until in the 
79th or 80th degree she is in the best Green- 
land whaling latitudes. There she remains 
for three months or so, and if she is fortunate 




f'l' -rrr f\ \ 

she may bring back 300 or 400 per cent to 
her owners, and a nice little purse full for 
every man of her ship's company. Or if her 
profits be more modest, she has at least 
afforded such sport th^it every other sport is 
dwarfed by the comparison. 

It is seldom that one meets anyone who 
understands the value of a Greenland whale, 
A well-boned and large one as she floats is 
worth to-day something between two and three 
thousand pounds, This huge price is due 
to the value of whalebone, which is a very 
rare commodity, and yet is absolutely essential 
for some trade purposes. The price tends to 
rise steadily, for the number of the creatures 
is diminishing. In i88o T Captain Gray 
calculated that there were probably not more 
than 300 of them left alive in the whole 
expanse of the Greenland seas, an area of 
thousands of square miles. How few there 
are is shown by the fact that he recognised 
individuals amongst those which we chased. 
'There was one with a curious wart about the 
size of a beehive upon his tail) which he had 
remembered chasing when he was a lad on 
his fathers ship. Perhaps other generations 
of whalers may follow that warty tail, for the 

quiet the boat 
the creature to 
slowly up, and 
near that the boat- 
you can get there 

lvhale is a very long-lived creature. 
How long they live has never been 
ascertained ; but in the days when it 
was customary to stamp harpoons with 
the names of vessels, old harpoons 
have been cut out of whales bearing 
names long forgotten in the trade, and 
all the evidence goes to prove that a 
century is well within their powers. 

It is exciting work pulling on to a 
whale. Your own back is turned to 
him, and all you know about him is 
what you read upon the face of the 
boat-steerer. He is staring out over 
your head, watching the creature as 
it swims slowly through the water, 
raising his hand now and again as a 
signal to stop rowing when he sees that 
the eye is coming round, and then 
resuming the stealthy approach when 
the whale is end on. There are so 
many floating pieces of ice, that as 
long as the oars are 
alone will not cause 
dive. So you creep 
at last you are so 
steerer knows that you can 
before the creature has time to dive 
-for it takes some little time to get 
that huge body into motion. You 
see a sudden gleam in his eyes, 
and a flush in his cheeks, and it's 
" Give way, boys ! Give way, all ! Hard ! " 
Click goes the trigger of the big harpoon 
gun, and the foam flies from your oars. Six 
strokes, perhaps, and then with a dull, greasy 
squelch the bows run upon something soft, 
and you and your oars are sent flying in every 
direction. But little you care for that, 
for as you touched the whale you have 
heard the crash of the gun, and know- 
that the harpoon has been fired point- 
blank into the huge, lead-coloured curve of its 
side. The creature sinks like a stone, the 
bows of the boat splash down into the water 
again, but there is the little red Jack flying 
from the centre thwart to show that you are 
fast^ and there is the line whizzing swiftly 
under the seats and over the bows between 
your outstretched feet. 

And there is the one element of danger- -for 
it is rarely indeed that the whale has spirit 
enough to turn upon its enemies. The line 
is very carefully coiled by a special man 
named the line-coiler, and it is warranted not 
to kink. If it should happen to do so, 
however, and if the loop catches the limbs of 
any one of the boat's crew, that man goes to 
his death so rapidly thai his comrades hardly 




know that he has gone. It is a waste of fish 
to cut the line, far thy victim is already 
hundreds of fathoms deep. 

" Haud your hand, mon t " cried the 
harpooner, as a seaman raised his knife on 
such an occasion, " The fush will be a fine 
thing for the widdeyv' It sounds callous, 
but there was philosophy at the base of it. 

This h the harpooning, and that boat has 
no more to do. But the lancing, when the 
weary fish is killed with the cold steel, is 
a more exciting because it is a more pro- 
longed experience* You may be for half an 
hour so near to the creature that you can lay 
your hand upon its slimy side. The whale 
appears to have but little sensibility to pain, 
for it never winces when the long lances are 
passed through its body. But its instinct 
urges-it to get its tail to work on the boats, 
and yours urges you to keep poling and boat- 
hooking along its side, so as to retain your 
sate position near its shoulder, Even there, 

the fin rolled over the other way, and we 
knew that it was dead. Who would swap 
that moment for any other triumph that 
sport can give ? 

The peculiar other- world feeling of the 
Arctic regions — a feeling so singular^ that if 
you have once been there the thought of 
it haunts you all your life — is due largely 
to the perpetual daylight. Night seems more 
orange- tin ted and subdued than day, but 
there is no great difference. Some captains 
have been known to turn their hours right 
round out of caprice, with breakfast at night 
and supper at ten in the morning. There 
are your twenty-four hours, and you may 
carve them as you like. After a month or 
two the eyes grow weary of the eternal light, 
and you appreciate what a soothing thing 
our darkness is, I can remember as we 
came abreast of Iceland, on our return, catch- 
ing our first glimpse of a star, and being 
unable to take my eyes from it, it seemed 

tVAI.Kl'K ON lll-XK. 


however, we found upon this occasion that 
we were not quite out of danger's way, 
for the creature in its flurry raised its 
huge side -flapper and poised it over the 
boat. One flap would have sent us to 
the bottom of the sea, and I can never 
forget how, as we pushed our way from under, 
each of us held one hand up to stave off that 
great, threatening fin- as if any strength of 
ours could have availed if the whale had 
meant it to descend. But it was spent with 
loss of blood, and instead of coming down 

such a dainty little twinkling thing. Half 
the beauties of Nature are lost through over 

Your sense of loneliness also heightens the 
effect of the Arctic Seas* When we were in 
whaling latitudes it is probable that, with the 
exception of our consort, there was no vessel 
within 800 miles of us. For seven long 
months no letter and no news came to us 
from the southern world. We had left in 
exciting times, The Afghan campaign had 
been undedtetepilQcpliiilicftrar seemed imminent 




with Russia. We returned opposite the 
mouth of the Baltic without any means of 
knowing whether some cruiser might not 
treat us as we had treated the whales. When 
we met a fishing boat at the north of Shet- 
land our first inquiry was as to peace or 
war Great events had happened during 
those seven months : the defeat of Maiwand 
and the famous march of Roberts from 
Cabul to Oandahar. But it was all haze to 
us ; and, to this day, I have never been able 
to get that particular bit of military history 
straightened out in my own mind. 

The perpetual light, the glare of the white 
ice, the deep blue of the water, these arc? the 
things which one remembers most clearly, 
with the dry, crisp, exhilarating air, which 
makes mere life the keenest of pleasures. 
And then there are the innumerable sea- 
birds, whose call is for ever ringing in your 
ears : the gulls, the fulmars, the snow-birds, 
the burgomasters, the looms, and the rotjes. 
These fill the air, and below, the waters are 
for ever giving you a peep of some strange 
new creature. The commercial whale may 
not often come your way, but his less 
valuable brethren abound on every side, 
The finner shows 
his ninety feet of 
worthless tallow, 
with the absolute 
conviction that no 
whaler would con- 
descend to lower 
a boat for him. 
The mis-shapen 
hunchback whale, 
the ghost-like 
white whale, the 
narwhal, with his 
unicorn horn, the 
queer- looking bot- 
tle-nose, the huge, 
sluggish, Green- 
land shark, and 
the terrible killing 
grampus, the most 
formidable of all 
the monsters of 
the deep, these are 
the creatures who 
own those un- 
sailed seas. On 
the ice are the 

seals, the saddle-backs, the ground seals, the 
huge bladdernoses, 12ft from nose to tail, 
with the power of blowing up a great blood- 
red football upon their noses when they are 
angry, which they usually are. Occasionally 
one sees a white Arctic fox upon the 
ice, and everywhere are the bears* 
The floes in the neighbourhood of the 
sealing - ground are all criss-crossed with 
their tracks — poor, harmless creatures, with 
the lurch and roll of a deep-sea mariner. It 
is for the sake of the seals that they come 
out over those hundreds of miles of ice— and 
they have a very ingenious method of catch- 
ing them, for they will choose a big ice-field 
with just one blow-hole for seals in the middle 
of it. Here the bear will squat, with its 
powerful forearms crooked round the hole. 
Then, when the seal's head pops up, the 
great paws snap together, and Bruin has got 
its luncheon. We used occasionally to burn 
some of the cook's refuse in the engine-room 
fires, and the smell would, in a few hours, 
bring up every bear for many miles to lee- 
ward of us. 

But pleasant as the voyage is, there comes 
a day when the prow must be turned south 

once more. The 
winter comes on 
very suddenly 
sometimes, and 
woe betide the 
whaler which may 
be caught lagging! 
In September, 
then, our boats 
were taken in, our 
blubber tanks 
screwed down, and 
theH&fie was fairly 
homeward bound. 
Far off loomed 
the huge peak of 
Jan-Mayen Island, 
the ice - blink 
glimmered and 
faded away be- 
hind us, and I 
had seen the 
last which I am 
ever, save in my 
dreams, likely to 
see of the Green- 
land Ocean. 

Ann a) 



Note. — We have much pleasure m amiottminj? that a new Serial Story fry Dr. Conan Doyle is tww tn 

preparation for The STRAND MAGAZTN^ na | from 

VnJ, 1 lit— 4. 

K 1 



From Behind the Speakers Chair. 




AMONGST the first work to be 
done in the new Session that 
opens this month is the re- 
appointment of the Select Com- 
mittee nominated last year to inquire into 
the circumstances that led up to the raid on 
the Transvaal. It may be useful, for 
purposes of reference, to give a list of the 
members of the Committee as it is set forth 
in the columns of the Paris Gil Bias. It 
runs thus : Sir milord Willam Hardtcourte, 
Sir H. Campell Bamnermard, Sir Michael 
Chicks Black, Sir Richard Webster, Lydney 
Bluxtone, H. Lebouchfere Bigham, Sir Hart- 
Dyki, and M. Chamtertain. 

When on Mr. Gladstone's trip to the Kiel 
Canal the Tantallon Castle touched at 
Copenhagen, a local paper gave a list of the 
principal guests, which included Lord 
Randoll, Lord Welley, Sir Writh Pease, Sir 
John Leng Baith, and Sir Cuthbert Quiets. 
Under these disguises fellow-passengers 
recognised Lord Rendell, Lord Welby, Sir 
Joseph Pease, Sir John Leng, and (though 
this was more difficult) Mr. Cuthbert Quilter, 

But for picturesque spelling of proper 
names Paris beats Copenhagen. 

a statue A su g8 estion thrown out on this 
page last year has been taken up 

Randolph ky the member for Birkenhead, 
" who has addressed to the First 
Lord of the Treasury inquiry as to the 
possibility of finding within the precincts of 
the Houses of Parliament a site for a 
memorial of Lord Randolph Churchill. Mr. 
Arthur Balfour diplomatically replies that 
if the First Commissioner of Works is 
approached on the subject by a responsible 
committee, he will give the matter his full 

There, for the while, the matter rests. It 
is probable that, sooner or later, this honour 
will be done to one of the strongest, 
ablest, and most original Parliamentarians of 
the later Victorian age. One deterrent 
influence is the fearsome consequences of 
similar endeavour to do honour to the 
memory of Mr. Bright. The smug block of 
marble last year placed in the outer lobby of 

the House of Commons labelled John Bright 
casts a baleful shadow over further enterprise 
in analogous direction. It is felt that it 
would be better to leave Lord Randolph 
Churchill's memory enshrined in the hearts 
of those who knew him than to attempt to for posterity in the fashion Mr. 
Bright has been dealt with. 

sir George A notable > unvarying, and un- 
„. explained phenomenon of the 


' House of Commons is the failure 
of men who enter it after having 
established high reputation in India. The 
matter is the more marvellous since success 
in such a career implies exceptional ability. 
Three cases within recent memory illustrate 
the rule. Sir George Balfour, who repre- 
sented Kincardineshire in three Parliaments, 
had a distinguished executive and adminis- 
trative career in India. Having served in 
the artillery till he rose to the rank of Major- 
General, he became President of the Military 
Finance Commission of India, and was, for 
a while, chief of the Military Finance Depart- 

In his sixty-thfrd year he began a new life 
in London, entering upon Imperial politics 
with the zest of perennial youth. He took 
to speaking in the House of Commons as a 
duck takes to water. But no House — the 
great Liberal Parliament elected in 1868, 
the Conservative host under Mr. Disraeli's 
leadership in the 1874 Parliament, nor the 
Liberals, back again like a flood in 1880, 
would listen to the poor old General. For 
years he plodded on, his face growing more 
deeply furrowed, his voice taking on nearer 
resemblance to a coronach. ' In lapses of 
the roar of "'Vide! 'Vide! 'Vide ! ,; that 
greeted his rising, the wail of the General 
was heard like the far-off cry of a drowning 
man in a storm at sea. 

In the end he retired from the struggle, 
and for a Session or two sat silent in his 
ftftiiliar seat behind the Front Bench. A look 
of yearning pathos filled his eyes as he 
watched member after member upstanding, 
and delivering a speech to which the House 
more or less attentively listened, whereas him 
it had persistently shouted down. 




The member for Kirkcaldy was 
sir George of tougher metal than his col- 
Campbell, league of Kincardineshire. He 

was, moreover, a far abler man. 
Sir George was Lieutenant - Governor of 
Bengal during the great famine* Quitting 


India whilst the plague had not been entirely 
stayed by his energetic and well -directed 
efforts, the Times threw its hands up in 
Editorial despair. The question of what would 
become of India when Sir George Campbell 
had forsaken it seemed at the time appalling. 

When he first took his seat for Kirkcaldy/ 
Sir George was still in the prime of life as 
time is counted in the political arena. Just 
turned fifty, he might reasonably count on 
fifteen, perhaps twenty, years of active life in 
which on new ground he might repeat* even 
excel, his triumphs in India, Indian questions 
he had at his finger ends. But in the course 
of an active life and wide reading he had 
amassed a store of information on a wider 

Perhaps that was the secret of his Parliamen- 
tary failure. He could talk on any subject 
at any length, and was not indisposed to 
oblige. A further peculiar disadvantage 
was possession of one of the most rasping 
voices ever heard on land or sea. In the 
1880 Parliament the mere sound of Sir 
George Campbell's voice at the opening 
sentence of a speech was sufficient to send 
the merry-hearted Unionist majority into a 
roar of laughter. * , 

The temptation to score oflT Sir 

fearful George was great, since nothing 

creatures ! pleased the House more than 

success in that direction. One 

afternoon questions, of which due notice had 

been given, were addressed to Mr. Plunket, 
then First Commissioner of Works* with 
respect to the carving of strange birds and 
beasts with which the new staircases in 
Westminster Hall had been ornamented. 
No one was dreaming of Sir George Campbell. 
It wasn't his show, but he must needs poke 
his nose into it, Mr. Plunket had disclaimed 
authority in the matter 

" Who, then/ 5 cried Sir George, at the top 
of his voice, "is responsible for these fearful 
creatures ? " 

Mr. Plunket returned to the table, and 
turning a beaming face upon Sir George said, 
in musical voice that contrasted pleasantly 
with the rasping of a file, u I am not 
responsible for the fearful creatures in West- 
minster Hall, or in this House either," 

In the following Session Sir George acci- 
dentally and undesignedly gave a fresh point 
to this little gibe by a slip of the tongue* 
Having, in companionship with Mr, Storey, 
Mr. Conybeare, and two or three other 
members below the gangway, long withstood 
the Government in Committee of Supply, 
Sir George, in one of twenty-three speeches 
delivered on a single night, desired to 
make reference to " the band of us devoted 


guerillas." In the tornado of his hurried 
speech he got a little mixed, and presented 
himself and his coadjutors to the notice of a 
delighted House as %t the band of us devoted 




„„ „„„ One of Sir Georges minor fads 

SIR GEORGE , . .- . J V A ■ c Clr 

was objection to the device of bt. 

MAGOiT Geor K e and the Dra g° n employed 
" for coins which passed currency 
in Scotland, St. George was all very well for 
mere Southerners, North of the Tweed, St 
Andrew was the saint. In Committee of 
Supply he returned to this subject, dwelling 
upon it as if he approached it for the first 
time. The Chancellor of the Exchequer, 
who had replied a score of times to the 
question, made no sign, and the Chairman 
of Committees had risen to put the question. 
Sir George bore down upon him with un- 
governable fury, threatening to move to 
report progress if he were thus ignored, Mr, 
YV. EL Smith, still with us at the time, inter- 
posed with characteristic effort 
to throw oil on the troubled 
waters. Sir George, in re- 
sponse, clamoured for a 
pledge that in any new coin- 
age the familiar device should 
not be introduced. Here- 
upon, Sir Wilfred Lawson, 
ever a man of peace, sug- 
gested, as a compromise, 
that the die should be cut 
to represent Sir George and 
the Dragon. 

Amid the uproarious 
laughter that followed, the 
vote under discussion was 
hastily put and further dis- 
cussion by Sir George Camp- 
bell necessarily deferred. 

Still another 

eminent Indian 

statesman who 

found a low level 
in the House of Commons 
was Sir Richard Temple. Sir 
Richard has recently pub- 
lished the Story of his Life, 
from which it appears how intimately and 
directly he was connected with the growth 
and prosperity of India over a period of 
twenty -nine years. He was nine years older 
than Sir George Campbell when he entered 
the Parliamentary arena. In mental and 
physical vigour he was at least his equal. 
Sir Richard's career in India had been one 
of unchecked advancement— the reward of 
honest hard work and high administrative 
capacity. As he himself puts it, he "wis 
fortunate in climbing rapidly up the steps of 
the ladder in a comparatively short time, and 
remaining at or near the top for the greater 
part of my official days." 

Digitized by dOOglC 

most active 
catching the 


He came to Westminster just as Napoleon 
went to Spain after his triumphs in Italy and 
Germany, meaning to possess himself of a 
new territory as a matter of course. Exclud- 
ing Irish members from the computation, 
Sir Richard in one respect beat the record. 
"In the Commons/' he writes, on the day 
before he took the oath, " I wish to comport 
myself modestly and quietly." He began 
by making his maiden speech on the first 
night on the opening Session of a new 
Parliament ! 

Sir Richard was one of the 
competitors in the game of 
Speaker's eye. He had an 
advantage inasmuch as he was always on the 
spot It was his boast that, out of the 2,118 
divisions taken in the Parlia- 
ment of 1886-92, he voted in 
2,072. In respect of the 
mastery of other questions 
besides those specially per- 
taining to India, Sir Richard 
had exceptional claims to the 
attention of the House of 
Commons. But he never 
succeeded in catching its ear, 
and after a struggle not less 
gallant or prolonged than that 
of Sir George Balfour or Sir 
George Campbell, he shook 
the dust of the House from 
off his feet. 

Macaulay, another 

eminent immigrant 

from India, after 

brief experience, 

the House of Com- 

the most peculiar 

in the world* tL I 

he wrote to 





orator at the 
a good orator 

mons as 
should say/ 

\V he well sixty- six years ago 
next month, " that a man's 
being a good writer, a good 
Bar, a good mob orator, or 
in debating clubs, was rather 
a reason for expecting him to fail than for 
expecting him to succeed in the House of 
Commons. A place where Walpole succeeded 
and Addison failed; where Dundas succeeded 
and Burke failed : where Peel now succeeds 
and where Mackintosh fails; where Erskine 
and Scarlett were dinner-bells ; where 
Lawrence and Jekyll, the two wittiest men, 
or nearly so, of their time, were thought 
bores 3 is surely a very strange place," 

In the case of men who have made their 
mark in India there is not even this attrac- 
tion of variety. They all prove dinner-bells, 




One reason for this is that they enter the 
House too late in life. There are exceedingly 
few exceptions to the rule that men do not reach 
supreme position In the House of Commons 
unless they enter it on the sunny side of thirty. 

More directly fatal to House of Commons 
success of Indian ex-M misters and officials is 
the absolutely altered conditions of life. 
Stepping from Government House in one of 
the Provinces of India on to the floor of the 
House of Commons, they experience a more 
striking and not ho attractive a transformation 
as Alice realized when she wandered into 
Wonderland. For years accustomed to auto- 
cratic power, his lightest whisper a command, 
the ex-Satrap finds himself an unconsidered 
member of a body of men who, unless their de- 
meanour is misleading, would think nothing of 
tweaking the nose of the ex-Governor of Bom- 
bay or the ex- Lieutenant-Governor of Bengal. 

The lesson is learnt in time. To begin with, 
it is difficult for a man who, as Sir Richard 
Temple boasts in his own case, has ruled 
over millions, to realize that he must compete 
with borough members and the like in the 
effort to catch the Speakers eye. His earliest 
natural impulse is to clap his hands and 
order the optic to be brought to him on a 
charger. By the time the hard lesson is learned 
the spirit is broken, ambition is smothered, 
old age creeps on, and strong, capable, suc- 
cessful men, who have thrown up high appoint- 
ments in India, in order to serve their country 
and themselves in a Parliamentary career, 
find how much sharper than a serpent's tooth 
is House of Commons' ingratitude. 

The gentlemen of England who 
unnamed live at home at ease, and, morning 
heroes, after morning, 
through an 
important debate in the 
House of Commons, 
glance down the report 
of speeches delivered on 
the previous night, reck 
little of tearless dumb 
tragedies that take place 
in the historic Chamber 
and find no record* It is 
all very well for the man 
who has worked off his 
speech, even if the 
benches should empty at 
his rising, and the news- 
papers give the barest 
summary of his argument. 

Alms, for those who never sing, 
BuL die with all their mu.^ic 
in them. 

Through nights of big debates, for one 
member who catches the Speaker's eye there 
are, at least, twenty who compete in the 
emprise and lamentably fail. It is no un- 
common thing to see a member sit hour after 
hour, notes of his speech in hand, waiting till 
successive orators have made an end of speak- 
ings eagerly jump up, and be passed over by 
the Speaker. The House, long inured to the 
misfortune in others, passes it over without 
sign of emotion. But it is no light thing for 
the man directly concerned. 

To begin with, he has presumably spent 
much time in studying the subject of debate 
and in laborious preparation of a speech. 
He must be down early to secure a scat 
Whilst others go off to chat in the lobby, 
to smoke on the terrace, to read the papers, 
or leisurely to dine, he must remain at his 
post, ready to jump up whenever an opening 
is made. To take one turn at this and be 
disappointed is hard. To do it all through a 
night seems unendurable. To repeat the 
experience night after night, and hear the 
division called with the speech yet unspoken, 
is sufficient to blight existence. 

Yet such a fate is by no means uncommon. 
In some cases a last pang is added by the 
consciousness that the wife of one's bosom, 
or the dutiful daughters who believe Pa's 
oratory would remove mountains of objec- 
tion, regard the shameful scene from the 
seclusion of the Ladies' Gallery, 

Disgust and disappointment, born 
of this evil fate, occasionally find 
expression in protest against the 
number and length of speeches 
delivered from either Front Bench. It will 
be understood in what 
mood a member, smarts 
ing under constant re- 
pulse, seesanother chance 
snatched from him by the 
interposition of a minor 
Minister or, worse still, 
by an ex-Uncler Secretary 
rising from the Front 
Opposition Bench, reel- 
ing off his speech as a 
matter of course and 
right. In big debates, 
where the pressure of 
oratory is overpowering 
and time limited, the 
Whips on either side 
make up a list in due 
order of precedence, 
which they hand to the 
Speaker. This he is glad 











enough to avail himself of, whilst not 

abrogating his right to make such selection 

as he pleases. 

In olden times, before the closure 
was, the House was to a con- 
siderable extent at the mercy of 
a single member in the matter of 

closing a debate, Mr, 

Frank Hugh O'Donnell 

reduced to a perfected 

system the habit of in- 
terposing at the moment 

when a big debate 

seemed to have come 

to a natural conclusion. 

In his day there was 

neither the twelve o'clock 

rule nor closure, Talk 

might, not infrequently 

did, go on all through 

the night and fill the 

wearied hours of the 

succeeding morn, Mr. 

Gladstone, as Leader of 

the Opposition, would 

wind up the debate from 

the point of view of his 

party ; Mr. Disraeli, as 

Leader of the House, 
reply, a task 
completed be- 
tween one and two o'clock in the morning. 

The Speaker would rise to put the question, 

and tired members would gratefully prepare 

for the march through the division lobbies, 

and the subsequent rush for eabs. 

At this critical moment would be 
discovered below the gangway Mr, 
O'Donnell on his feet> leisurely fixing 
his eye-glass preparatory to delivering 
a long speech that might just as well 
have been spoken before dinner. The 
House howled, and, using the phrase 
in a Parliamentary sense, tore its hair 
and rent its garments. But it felt its 
impotence, and Mr. O'Donnell relent- 
lessly used his power, When the con- 
tinuous roar of " 'Vide ! 'Vide ! 'Vide ! " 
filled the Chamber, Mr, O'Donnell seized 
the opportunity of silence enforced on 
himself quietly to study his notes. The 
conflict lasted for ten minutes or a quarter 
of an hour, according to the reckless heat 
of passion. But there was never any 
variation of the conclusion. When six 
hundred members had shouted them- 
selves hoarse, Mr. O'Donnell continued 
and concluded his speech, to the prolonga- 
tion of which members had contributed 
the odd ten or fifteen minutes. 

Members of the present House 
of Commons have never heard 
the old Parliamentary roar of 
passionate wrath. Sometimes 
unwelcome member interposes 


Vide ! 

Vide t w 





in the debate, or another, having been 
on his legs for an hour, 
proposes to introduce 
his .seventhly, there is a 
timid cry of "'Vide ! 
Tide ! 'Vide ! " The 
change in Parliamentary 
habit and modes of 
thought is shown by 
the fact that the in- 
terruption is instantly 
met by a stern cry 
of "Order! Order 1 " 
in which, if the inter- 
ruption be persisted in, 
the Speaker is sure to 
join. Not that the 
audience desire to have 
more of the eloquence 
from which they 
have suffered. But 
it is not, in these days, 
the fashion to shout 
down an obnoxious 
Mr, Courtney remembers when 
things were quite otherwise. 
There was a Wednesday after- 
noon in June, in the Session of 

1877, when the Woman's Suffrage Bill made 






one of its successive appearances. The 
advocates of the measure— foremost among 
whom was Mr, Courtney — were flushed with 
hope of a good division. At a quarter past 
five, thtt champion rose to clench the argu- 
ment in favour of tht> second reading. Under 
the standing orders then in force, Wednesday's 
debate must needs close at a quarter to six. 
If any member was on his feet when the 
hand of the clock touched the quarter, the 
debate would automatically stand adjourned. 
The House had had enough of debate 
carried on through a long summer afternoon. 
Members knew Mr. Courtney's views on the 
question, and would rather have the division 
than enjoy opportunity of hearing them 
formally stated. Accordingly, when he rose 
there were cries for the division. 

But Mr Courtney, though then compara- 
tively new to Parliamentary life, was not to 
be put down by clamour* Disregarding the 
interruption, he went on with his remarks. 
As he continued the storm rose. Mr, 
Courtney's back was up, and 
occasionally so also was his 
clenched fist, shaken towards 
high Heaven in enforcement 
of his argument, At the 
end of a quarter of an hour 
a glass of water was brought 
by a considerate friend. Amid 
howls of contumely the orator 
gulped it down. Evidently 
refreshed, he began again. 
Nothing was heard beyond the 
invocation, '* Mr. Speaker, " 
and the chorus, "'Vide! 
'Vide! 'Vide!" The roar of 
human voices filled the 
Chamber with angry wail 
When it seemed dying away 
Mr. Courtney's lips moved, 
whereat the blast broke forth 
with renewed fury. Another 
glass of water was brought, 
and drank amid demoniac 

So the moments sped till a quarter to six 
rang out from the clack tower, and Mr. 
Courtney sat down pale and breathless, 
secure in the rare triumph of having talked 
out the Bill whose passage through a second 


reading he had risen with intent to enforce. 
That is a scene the like of which members of 
the House of Commons living under the 
New Rules will never more look upon* 

A well-known member of the 
a night House of Commons has brought 
alarm, up from the country a story 
which illustrates the responsi- 
bilities of hospitality. His house standing 
in an isolated position, with the highway 
skirting the park walls, he became concerned 
for the safety of many precious portable 
things collected under his roof Taking 
advice in an experienced quarter, he was 
advised that the best thing to do was to have 
all the doors and windows on the ground floor 
connected with electric-bells. Any attempt to 
effect burglarious entry would result^ not only 
in the ringing of the bell in the particular 
room upon which attempt was made, but in 
every room and every passage on the ground 

Shortly after midnight on what had been a 
peaceful Sabbath, the house- 
hold were alarmed by a furious 
ringing of bells, The house- 
holder was up with delighted 
alacrity. Now he would have 
them ! On the way down- 
stairs he met several men of 
the house party, for the most 
part scantily dressed, but full 
of ardour for any possible fray. 
As the bells were Still ring- 
ing in all the rooms, it was 
difficult to hit upon the one 
assailed. The host was 
assisted by the appearance at 
one of the doors of an esteemed 
friend with painfully scared 
look. Explanations following, 
it appeared that the guest, 
fancying the room was warm, 
and being accustomed to sleep 
at home with his window 
open, unfastened the latch and 
threw up the window, with 
the astounding results recorded. 

In future, guests sleeping on the ground 
floor will be warned of what they may expect 
as the result of too insistent search of fresh 
night ^ir. 

by Google 

Original from 

By Grant Allen, 

N our return to London, 
Charles and Marvillier had a 
difference of opinion on the 
subject of Medhurst. 

Charles maintained Mar- 
villier ought to have known 
the man with the cropped hair was Colonel 
Clay, and ought never to have recommended 
him. Marvillier maintained that Charles had 
seen Colonel Clay half-a-dozen times, at least, 
to his own never ; and that my respected 
brother-in-law had therefore nobody on earth 
but himself to blame if the rogue imposed 
upon him. The head detective had known 
Medhurst for ten years, he said, as a most 
respectable man, and even a ratepayer ; he 
had always found him the cleverest of spies, 
as well he might be, indeed, on the familiar 
set-a-thicf-to-catch-a-thief; principle. How- 
ever, the upshot of it all was, as usual — 
nothing, Marvillier was sorry to lose the 
services of so excellent a hand ; but he had 
done the very best he could for Sir Charles, 
he declared ; and if Sir Charles were not satis- 
fied, why, he might catch his Colonel Clays 
for himself in future. . 

" So I will, Sey," Charles remarked to me, 
as we walked back from the office in the 
Strand by Piccadilly. " I won't trust any 
more to these private detectives. It's my 
belief they're a pack of thieves themselves, 
in league with the rascals they're set to 
catch, and with no more sense of honour 
than a Zulu diamond-hand." 

" Better try the police," I suggested, by 
way of being helpful One must assume an 
interest in one's employers business. 

But Charles shook his head. " No, no," 
he said ; " I'm sick of all these fellows. I 
shall trust in future to my own sagacity. We 
learn by experience, Sey — and I've learned a 
thing or two. One of them is this : It's not 
enough to suspect everybody ; you must 

Digitized by taOOgl C 

have no preconceptions. Divest yourself 
entirely of every fixed idea if you wish to 
cope with a rascal of this calibre. Don't 
jump at conclusions. We should disbelieve 
everything, as well as distrust everybody. 
That's the road to success ; and I mean to 
pursue it." 

So, by way of pursuing it, Charles retired to 

"The longer the man goes on, the worse 
he grows," he said to me one morning, " He's 
just like a tiger that has tasted blood. Every 
successful haul seems only to make him more 
eager for another, I fully expect now before 
long we shall see him down here," 

About three weeks later, sure enough, my 
respected connection received a communica- 
tion from the abandoned swindler, with an 
Austrian stamp and a Vienna post-mark. 

" My dear Van drift, 

** (After so long and so varied an acquaint- 
ance we may surely drop the absurd 
formalities of * Sir Charles J and ' Colonel.') 
I write to ask you a delicate question. Can 
you kindly tell me exactly how much I have 
received from your various generous acts 
during the last three years ? I have mislaid 
my account-book T and as this is the season 
for making the income-tax return, I am 
anxious, as an honest and conscientious 
citizen, to set down my average profits out of 
you for the triennial period* For reasons 
which you will amply understand, I do not 
this time give my private address, in Paris or 
elsewhere; but if you will kindly advertise 
the total amount, above the signature * Peter 
Simple/ in the Agony Column of the Times, 
you will confer a great favour upon the 
Revenue Commissioners, and also upon 
"Your constant friend and companion, 
" Cutheert Clay, 

41 Practical Socialist" 

" Mark my word, Sey/' Charles said, laying 




the letter down, "in a week m less the man 
himself will follow. This is his cunning way 
of trying to make me think he's well out of 
the country and far away from Seldom That 
means he's meditating another descent But 
he told us too much last time, when he was 
Med hurst the detective. He gave us some 
hints about disguises and their unmasking 
that I shall not forget. This turn, I shall be 
even with him." 

On Saturday of that week, in effect, we 
were walking along the road that leads into 
the village, when we met a gentlemanly- 
looking man, in a rough and rather happy-go- 
lucky brown tweed suit, who had the air of a 
tourist. He was middle-aged, and of middle 
height \ he wore a small leather wallet sus- 
pended round his shoulder; and he was 
peering about at the rocks in a suspicious 
manner, Some- 
thing in his gait 
attracted our at- 

11 Good morn- 
ing," he said, 
looking up as we 
passed; and 
Charles muttered 
a somewhat surly 
and inarticulate, 
"Good morn- 

We went on 
without saying 
more. n Well, 
thafs not Colonel 
Clay, anyhow/* I 
said, as we got 
out of earshot, 
" For he accosted 
us first ; and you 
may remember 
it's one of the 
Colonel's most 
marked peculi- 
arities that, like 
the model child, 
he never speaks till he's 
begins an acquaintance, 
till we make the first advance ; he doesp't 
go out of his way to cheat us ; he loiters 
about till we ask him to do it." 

" Seymour/' my bmtln r in law responded, 

in a severe tone, " there you are, now, doing 

the very thing I warned you not to do ! 

You're succumbing to a preconception* 

Avoid fixed ideas, The probability is this 

man is Colonel Clay. Strangers are generally 

scarce at Seldon. If he isn't Colonel Clay, 
VoL .ul-* 


spoken to—never 
He always waits 

what's he here for, I'd like to know? What 
money is there to be made here in any other 
way ? I shall inquire about him." 

We dropped in at the Cromarty Arms, 
and asked good Mrs. M'Lachlan if she could 
tell us anything about the gentlemanly 
stranger Mrs. M*Lachlan replied that he 
was from London, she believed, a pleasant 
gentleman enough j and he had his wife 
with him. 

11 Ha ! Young ? Pretty ? " Charles inquired, 
with a speaking glance at me. 

" Weel, Sir Charles, shell no be exactly 
what you'd be ca'ing a bonny lass," Mrs. 
M'l^achlan replied] " but she's a guid body 
for a f that, an' a fine braw woman." 

"Just what I should expect," Charles 
murmured. " He varies the programme. 
The fellow has tried White Heather as the 

parson's wife, 
and as Madame 
Picardet, and as 
squinting little 
Mrs. Gran ton, 
and as M e d- 
hurst's accom- 
plice ; atid now, 
he has almost 
exhausted the 
possibilities of 
disguise for a 
really young and 
pretty woman j so 
he's playing her 
off at last as the 
riper product — a 
handsome mat- 
ron. Clever, ex- 
tremely clever ; 
but — we begin 
to see through 
him." And he 
chuckled to him- 
self quietly. 

Next day, on 
the hillside, we 
came upon our 
stranger again, occupied as before in peering 
into the rocks, and sounding them with a 
hammer. Charles nudged me and whispered, 
"I have it this time* He's posing as a 

I took a good look at the man. By now, 
of course, we had some experience of 
Colonel Clay in his various disguises ; and I 
could observe that while the nose, the hair, 
and the beard were varied, the eyes and the 
bufld remained the same as ever. He was a 
trifle stouter,i r -f^jnCjf(tft^| being got up as a 




man of between forty and fifty ; and his 
forehead was lined in a way which a less 
consummate artist than Colonel Clay could 
easily have imitated. But I felt we had at 
least some grounds for our identification; it 
would not do to dismiss the suggestion of 
Clay hood at once as a flight of fancy* 

His wife was sitting near, upon a bare boss 
of rock, reading a volume of poems- Capital 

heather smells sweet. You are stopping at 
the inn, I fancy ? '* 

u Yes," the lady answered, looking up at 
him with a charming smile. (**I know that 
smile," Charles whispered to me. "I have 
succumbed to it too often.") *' We're stopping 
at the inn, and my husband is doing a little 
geology on the hill here, I hope Sir Charles 
Vandrift won't come and catch us. He's so 


variant, that, a vol utile of poems ! Exactly 
suited the selected type of a cultivated 
family. White Heather and Mrs. Granton 
never used to read poems. But that was 
characteristic of all Colonel (lay's imperson- 
ations, and Mrs. Clay's too— for I suppose I 
must call her so. They were not mure outer 
disguises ; they were finished pieces of dramatic 
study. Those two people were an actor and 
actress, as well as a pair of rogues ; and in 
both their ritks they were simply inimitable. 

As a rule, -Charles is by no means polite to 
casual trespassers on the Seldon estate ; they 
get short shrift and a summary ejection. Kut 
on this oecnsion he had a reason for being 
courteous, and he approached the lady with a 
bow of recognition. "Lovely day," he said, 
" isn't it ? Such belts on the sea, and the 


down upon trespassers. They tell us at the 
inn he's a regular Tartar," 

("Saucy minx as ever,' 1 Charles murmured 
tome. §< Shesaid it on purpose.") "No, my 
dear madam," he continued, aloud; "you 
have been quite misinformed. / am Sir 
Charles Vandrift ; and I am not a Tartar. 
If your husband is a man of science, I respect 
and admire him. It is geology that has made 
me what I am to-day,** and he drew himself 
up proudly. "We owe to it the present 
development of South African mining.' 1 

The lady blushed as one seldom sees a 
inaturt: woman blush but exactly as I had 
seen Madame Picardet and White Heather. 
"Oh, i ? m so sorry," she said, in a confused 
way that recalled Mrs. Granton. u Forgive 
my hasty speech* I— I didn't know you/' 

(" She did," Charles whispered, " But let 
that pass.") tk Oh, don't think of it again ; 
so many people disturb the birds, don't you 
know, that we're obliged in self-defence to 
warn trespassers sometimes off our lovely 
mountains. But I do it with regret- — with 
profound QWfpfftal frim^dmire the — er — the 




beauties of Nature myself ; and, therefore, I 
desire that all others should have the freest 
possible access to them — possible, that is to 
say, consistently with the superior claims 
of Property." 

" I see," the lady replied, looking up at 
him quaintly. " I admire your wish — though 
not your reservation. I've just been reading 
those sweet lines of Wordsworth's : — 

And O, ye fountains, meadows, hills, and groves, 
Forebode not any severing of our loves. 

I suppose you know them ? " And she 

beamed on him pleasantly. 

"Know them?" Charles answered. " Know 
them ! Oh, of course, I know them. They're 
old favourites of mine — in fact, I adore 
Wordsworth." (I doubt whether Charles has 
ever in his life read a line of poetry, except 
Doss Chiderdoss in the Sporting Life.) He 
took the book and glanced at them. " Ah, 
charming, charming ! " he said, in his most 
ecstatic tone. But his eyes were on the 
lady, and not on the poet. 

I saw in a moment how things stood. No 
matter under what disguise that woman 
appeared to him, and whether he recognised 
her or not, Charles couldn't help falling a 
victim to Madame Picardet's attractions. 
Here he actually suspected her ; yet, like a 
moth round a candle, he was trying his 
hardest to get his wings singed ! I almost 
despised him with his gigantic intellect ! The 
greatest men are the greatest fools, I verily 
believe, when there's a woman in question. 

The husband strolled up by this time, and 
entered into conversation with us. Accord- 
ing to his own account, his name was Forbes- 
Gaskell, and he was a Professor of Geology 
in one of those new-fangled northern colleges. 
He had come to Seldon rock-spying, he said, 
and. found much to interest him. He was 
fond of fossils, but his special hobby was rocks 
and minerals. He knew a vast deal about 
cairngorms and agates and such-like pretty 
things, and showed Charles quartz and felspar 
and red cornelian, and I don't know what else, 
in the crags on the hillside. Charles pretended 
to listen to him with the deepest interest and 
even respect, never for a moment letting him 
guess he knew for what purpose this show of 
knowledge had been recently acquired. If we 
were ever to catch the man, we must not 
allow him to see we suspected him. So Charles 
played a dark game. He swallowed the 
geologist whole without question. 

Most of that morning we spent with them 
on the hillside. Charles took them every- 
where, and showed them everything. • He 
pretended to be polite to the scientific man, 

and he was really polite, most polite, to the* 
poetical lady. Before lunch time, we had- 
become quite friends. 

The Clays were always easy people to get 
on with ; and, bar their roguery, we could 
not deny they were delightful companions. 
Charles asked them in to lunch. They 
accepted willingly. He introduced them to- 
Amelia with sundry raisings of his eyebrows 
and contortions of his mouth. " Professor 
and Mrs. Forbes-Gaskell," he said, half- 
dislocating his jaw with his violent efforts. 
11 They're stopping at the inn, dear. I've 
been showing them over the place, and they're 
good enough to say they'll drop in and take 
a share in our cold roast mutton." Which 
was a frequent form of Charles's pleasantry. 

Amelia sent them upstairs to wash their 
hands — which, in the Professor's case, was 
certainly desirable, for his fingers were grimed 
with earth and dust from the rocks he had 
been investigating. As soon as we were left 
alone, Charles drew me into the library. 

" Seymour," he said, "more than ever 
there is a need for us strictly to avoid pre- 
conceptions. We must not make up our 
minds that this man is Colonel Clay — nor, 
again, that he isn't. We must remember that 
we have been mistaken in both ways in the 
past, and must avoid our old errors. I shall 
hold myself in readiness for either event — 
and a policeman in readiness to arrest them, 
if necessary ! " 

" A capital plan," I murmured. " Still, if 
I may venture a suggestion, in what way are 
these two people endeavouring to entrap us ? 
They have no scheme on hand — no schloss, 
no amalgamation." 

"Seymour," my brother-in-law answered, 
in his Board-room style, "you are a great 
deal too previous, as Medhurst used to say — 
I mean, Colonel Clay in his character as 
Medhurst In the First Place, these are 
early days ; our friends have not yet deve- 
loped their intentions. We may find before 
long they have a property to sell, or a com- 
pany to promote, or a concession to exploit 
in South Africa or elsewhere. Then, again, 
in the Second Place, we don't always spot 
the exact nature- of their plan until it has 
burst in our hands, so to speak, and revealed 
its true character. What could have seemed 
more transparent than Medhurst, the 
detective, till he ran away with our notes in 
the very moment of triumph? What more 
innocent than White Heather and the little 
curate, till they landed us with a couple of 
Amelia's own gems as a splendid bargain ? 
I will not take \\, for granted any man is not 




Colonel Clay, merely because I don't happen 
to spot the particular scheme he is trying to 
work against me. The rogue has so many 
schemes, and some of them so well con- 
cealed, that up to the moment of the actual 
explosion, you fail to detect the presence of 
moral dynamite. Therefore, I shall proceed 
as if there were dynamite everywhere. But, in 
the Third Place — and this is very important — 
you mark my words, I believe I detect already 
' the lines he will work upon. He's a geologist, 
he says, with a taste for minerals. Very good ! 
You see if he doesn't try to persuade me 
before long he has found a coal mine, whose 
locality he will disclose for a trifling con- 
sideration ; or else he will salt the Long 
Mountain with emeralds, and claim a big 
share for helping to discover them ; or else 
he will try something in the mineralogical 
line to do me somehow. I see it in the very 
transparency of the fellow's face ; and Vm 
determined, tbys time, neither to pay him 
one farthing on any pretext, nor to let him 
escape me ! " 

We went in to lunch. The Professor and 
Mrs. Forbes-Gaskell, all smiles, accompanied 
us* I don't know whether it was Charles's 
warning to take nothing for granted that 
made me do so — but I kept a close eye upon 
the suspected man all the time we were at 
table. It struck me there was something 
very odd about his hair. It didn't seem 
quite the same colour all over. The locks 
that hung down behind, over the collar 
of his coat, were a trifle lighter and 
a trifle greyer than the black mass that 
covered the greater part of his head. I 
examined it carefully. The more I did so, 
the more the conviction grew upon me: he 
was wearing a wig. There was no denying it ! 

A trifle less artistic, perhaps, than most of 
Colonel Clay's get-ups; but, then, I reflected 
(on Charles's principle of taking nothing 
for granted), we had never before suspected 
Colonel Clay himself, except in the one case 
of the Honourable David, whose red hair 
and whiskers even Madame Picardet had 
admitted to be absurdly false by her action 
of pointing at them and tittering irrepressibly. 
It was possible that in every case, if we had 
scrutinized our man closely, we should have 
found that the disguise betrayed itself at 
once (as Medhurst had suggested) to an 
acute observer. 

The detective, in fact, had told us too 
much. I remembered what he said to us 
about knocking off David Granton's red wig 
the moment we doubted him ; and I 
positively tried to help myself awkwardly to 

potato - chips, when the footman offered 
them, so as to hit the supposed wig with an 
apparently careless brush of my elbow. But 
it was of no avail. The fellow seemed to 
anticipate or suspect my intention, and 
dodged aside carefully, like one well accus- 
tomed to saving his disguise from all chance 
of such real or seeming accidents. 

I was so full of my discovery, that 
immediately after lunch I induced Isabel to 
take our new friends round the home garden 
and show them Charles's famous prize dahlias, 
while I proceeded myself to narrate to Charles 
and Amelia my observations and my frustrated 

" It is a wig," Amelia assented. " /spotted 
it at once. A very good wig, too, and most 
artistically planted. Men don't notice these 
things, though women do. It is creditable 
to you, Seymour, to have succeeded in 
detecting it." 

Charles was less complimentary. "You 
fool," he answered, with that unpleasant 
frankness which is much too common with 
him. " Supposing it is, why on earth should 
you try to knock it off and disclose him? 
What good would it have done ? If it is 
a wig, and we spot it, that's all we need. We 
are put on our guard ; we know with whom 
we have now to deal. But you can't take a 
man up on a charge of wig-wearing. The 
law doesn't interfere with it. Most respect- 
able men may sometimes wear wigs. Why, 
I knew a promoter who did, and also the 
director of fourteen companies f What we 
have to do next is, wait till he tries to cheat 
us, and then — pounce down upon him. 
Sooner or later, you may be sure, his plans 
will reveal themselves." 

So we concocted an excellent scheme to 
keep them under constant observation, lest 
they should slip away again, as they did from 
the island First of all, Amelia was to ask 
them to come and stop at the Castle, on the 
ground that the rooms at the inn were 
uncomfortably small. We felt sure, how- 
ever, that, as on a previous occasion, they 
would refuse the invitation, in order to be 
able to slink off unperceived, in case they 
should find themselves apparently suspected. 
Should they decline, it was arranged that 
Cdsarine should take a room at the Cromarty 
Arms as long as they stopped there, and 
report upon their movements ; while, during 
the day, we would have the house watched 
by the head gillie's son, a most intelligent 
young man, who could be trusted, with true 
Scotch canniness, to say nothing to anybody. 

To our fmrnens? surprise, Mrs. Forbes- 




Gaskell accepted the invitation with the 
utmost alacrity. She was profuse in her 
thanks, indeed ; for she told us the Arms 
was an ill-kept house, and the cookery by no 
means agreed with her husband's liver. It 
was sweet of us to invite them ; such kindness 
to perfect strangers was quite unexpected, 
She should always say that nowhere on earth 
had she met with so cordial or friendly a 
reception as at Seldon Castle. But — she 
accepted , unreservedly. 

41 It can't be Colonel Clay," I remarked to 
Charles, u He would never have come here. 
Even as David Gran ton, with far more 
reason for coming, he wouldn't put himself 
in our power: he preferred the security and 
freedom of the Cromarty Arms," 

"Sey," my brother-in law said, sententiously, 
"you're incorrigible, You will persist in 
being the slave of prepossessions. He may 
have some good reason of his own for accept- 
ing. Wait till he shows his hand — and then, 
we shall understand everything/' 

So, for the next three weeks, the Forbes- 
Gaskells formed part of the housc-partv w\ 
Seldon. I must say, Charles paid them most 
assiduous attention. He positively neglected 
his other guests, in order to keep close to the 
two new-comers. Mrs. Forbes-Ciaskell noticed 
the fact, and commented on it. " You are really 
too good to us, Sir Charles," she said, " I'm 
afraid you allow us quite to monopolize you ! " 

But Charks, gallant as ever, replied with a 
smile, (1 We have you with us for so short a 

time, you know!" Which made Mrs. 
Forbes-Gaskell blush again, that delicious 
blush of hers. 

During all this time, the Professor went 
on calmly and persistently m intra logizing. 
" Wonderful character ! " Charles said to me. 
"He works out his parts so well ! Could 
anything exceed the picture he gives one of 
scientific ardour ? " And, indeed, he was at 
it, morn, noon, and night. "Sooner or 
later/' Charles observed, " something practical 
must come of it." 

Twice meanwhile, little episodes occurred 
which are well worth notice. One day I was 
out with the Professor on the Long Mountain, 
watching him hammer at the rocks, and a 
little bored by his performance ; when, to 
pass the time, I asked him what a particular 
small water-worn stone was. He looked at 
it and smiled. "If there were a little more 
mica iii it," he said, " it would be the 
characteristic gneiss of ice-borne boulders, 
hereabouts. But there isn't quite enough/' 
and he gazed at it curiously. 

14 Indeed," I answered, " it doesn't come 
up to sample, doesn't it?" 

He gave me a meaning look, "Ten per 
cent, 3 ' he murmured in a slow, strange voice ; 
£< ten per cent, is more usual." 

I trembled violently. Was he bent, then, 

upon ruining me? " If you betray me -" 

I cried, and broke off 

" I beg your pardon,' 1 he said. He was 
all pure innocence. 





I reflected on what Charles had said about 
taking nothing for granted, and held my 
tongue prudently. 

The other incident was this. Charles 
picked a sprig of white heather on the hill 
one afternoon, after a picnic lunch, I regret 
to say, when he had taken perhaps a glass 
more champagne than was strictly good for 
him. He was not exactly the worse for it, 
but he was excited, good-humoured, reckless, 
and lively. He brought the sprig to Mrs. 
Forbes-Gaskell, and handed it to her, ogling 
a little. " Sweets to the sweet," he murmured, 
and looked at her meaningly. " White heather 
to White Heather." Then he saw what he had 
done, and checked himself instantly. 

Mrs. Forbes-Gaskell coloured up in the 
usual manner. "I — I don't quite understand," 
she faltered. 

Charles scrambled out of it somehow. 
" White heather for luck," he said ; " and — 
the man who is privileged to give a piece of 
it to you is surely lucky." 

She smiled, none too well pleased. I 
somehow felt she suspected us of suspecting 

However, as it turned out, nothing came, 
after all, of the untoward incident 

Next day, Charles burst upon me, trium- 
phant. " Well, he has shown his hand ! " 
he cried. " I knew he would. He has come 
to me to-day with — what do you think ? — a 
fragment of gold, in quartz, from the Long 

" No ! " I exclaimed. 

II Yes," Charles answered. " He says 
there's a vein there with distinct specks of 
gold in it, which might be worth mining. 
When a man begins that way, you know 
what he's driving at ! And what's more, he's 
got up the subject beforehand ; for he began 
saying to me there had long been gold in 
Sutherlandshire — why not therefore in Ross- 
shire? And then he went at full into the 
comparative geology of the two regions." 

"This is serious," I said. "What will you 

" Wait and watch," Charles answered ; 
" and the moment he develops a proposal for 
shares in the syndicate to work the mine, or 
a sum of money down as the price of his 
discovery — get in the police, and arrest 

For the next few days the Professor was 
more active and ardent than ever. He went 
peering about the rocks on every side with 
his hammer. He kept on bringing in little 
pieces of stone, with gold specks stuck in 
them, and talking learnedly of the " probable 

cost of crushing and milling." Charles had 
heard all that before ; in point of fact, he 
had assisted at the drafting of some dozens 
of prospectuses. So he took no notice, and 
waited for the man with the wig to develop 
his proposals. He knew they would come 
soon ; and he watched and waited. But, of 
course, to draw him on, he pretended to be 

While we were all in this attitude of mind, 
attending on Providence and Colonel Clay, 
we happened to walk down by the shore one 
day, in the opposite direction from the Sea- 
mew's Island. Suddenly we came upon 
the Professor linked arm-in-arm with — Sir 
Adolphus Cordery ! They were wrapped in 
deep talk, and appeared to be most amicable. 

Now, naturally, relations had been a trifle 
strained between Sir Adolphus and the house 
of Vandrift since the incident of the Slump ; 
but under the present circumstances, and 
with such a matter at stake as the capture of 
Colonel Clay, it was necessary to overlook 
all such minor differences. So Charles 
managed to disengage the Professor from his 
friend, sent Amelia on with Forbes-Gaskell 
towards the Castle, and stopped behind, him- 
self, with Sir Adolphus and me, to clear up 
the question. 

" Do you know this man, Cordery ? " he 
asked, with some little suspicion. 

" Know him ? Why, of course I do," Sir 
Adolphus answered. " He's Marmaduke 
Forbes-Gaskell, of the Yorkshire College, a 
very distinguished man of science. First- 
rate mineralogist — perhaps the best {but one) 
in England." Modesty forbad him to name 
the exception. 

" But are you sure it's he ? " Charles 
inquired, with growing doubt. " Have you 
known him before? This isn't a second 
case of Schleiermachering me, is it ? " 

" Sure it's he ? " Sir Adolphus echoed. 
"Am I sure of myself? Why, I've known 
Marmy Gaskell ever since we were at Trinity 
together. Knew him before he married Miss 
Forbes of Glenluce, my wife's second cousin, 
and hyphened his name with hers, to keep 
the property in the family. Know them both 
most intimately. Came down here to the 
inn because I heard that Marmy was on the 
prowl among these hills, and I thought he 
had probably something good to prowl after 
— in the way of fossils." 

" But the man wears a wig ! " Charles 

" Of course," Cordery answered. " He's 
as bald as a bat — in front at least — and he 
wears a wig to cover hf.s baldness." 




M It's disgraceful/' Charles exclaimed ; 
"disgraceful — taking us in like that." And 
he grew red as a turkey-cock 

Sir Adolphus has no delicacy. He burse 
out laughing. 

* fi Oh, I see," he cried out, simply bursting 
with amusement* ** You thought Forbes- 
Gaskell was Colonel Clay in disguise ! Oh, 
my stars, what a lovely one ! " 

** You, at least, have no right to laugh/ 1 

"What is the meaning of this, sir?" he 
shouted out, as soon as he caught sight of 
Charles, " I'm told you've invited my wife 
and myself here to your house, in order to 
spy upon us t under the impression that I was 
Clay, the notorious swindler ! " 

" I thought you were," Charles answered, 
equally angry. " Perhaps you may be still ! 
Anyhow, you're a rogue, and you tried to 
bamboozle me I "' 


Charles responded, drawing himself up and 
growing still redder. <L You le(l me once 
into a similar scrape, and then hacked out 
of it in a way unbecoming a gentleman. 
Besides/' he went on, getting angrier at each 
word, *' this fellow, whoever he is, has been 
trying to cheat me on his own account. 
Colonel Clay or no Colonel Clay, he's been 
salting my rocks with gold-bearing quartz, and 
trying to lead me on into an absurd 
speculation ! " 

Sir Adolphus exploded. "Oh, this is too 
good/' he cried. "I must go and tell 
Marmy ! n And he rushed off to where 
Forbes-Gaskeli was seated on a corner of 
rock with Amelia. 

As for Charles and myself, we returned to 
the house. Half an hour later, Forbes-Gaskell 
came back, too, in a towering temper. 

Forbcs-Caskcll, white with rage, turned to 
his trembling wife. (1 Gertrude/' he said, 
11 pack up your box and come away from these 
people instantly. Their pretended hospitality 
has been a studied insult They've put you 
and me in a most ridiculous position, * We 
were told before we came here — and no 
doubt with truth— that Sir Charles Vandrift 
was the most close-fisted and tyrannical old 
curmudgeon in Scotland. We Ve been writing 
to all our friends to say ecstatically that he 
was, on the contrary, a most hospitable, 
generous, and large-hearted gentleman. And 
now we find out he' 1 * a disgusting cad, who 
asks strangers to his house from the meanest 
motives, and then insults his guests with 
gratuitous vituperation. It is well such people 
should hear the plain truth now and again in 



greatest pleasure to tell Sir Charles Yaiidrift 
that he's a vulgar bounder of the first water. 
Go and pack your box, Gertrude ! I'll run 
down to the Cromarty Arms, and order a cab 
to carry us away at once from this inhospitable 
sham castle," 

"You wear a wig, sir; you wear a wig,' 1 
Charles exclaimed, half-choking with passion. 
For, indeed, as Forbes-Gaskell spoke, and 
tossed his head angrily, the nature of his hair- 
covering grew painfully apparent. It was 
quite one-sided. 

"1 do, sir, that I may be able to shake it 
in the face of a cad ! " the Professor responded, 
tearing it off to readjust it; and, suiting the 
action to the word, he bran- 
dished it thrice in Charles's 
eyes ; after which he darted 
from the room, speechless 
with indignation. 

As soon as they were gone, 
and Charles had recovered 
breath sufficiently to listen to 
rational conversation, I ven- 
tured to observe, 4i This 
comes of being too sure ! 
We made one mistake. We 
took it for granted that 
because a man wears a wig, 
he must be an impostor — 
which does not necessarily 
follow. We forgot that not 
Colonel Clays alone have 
false coverings to their heads, 
and that wigs may sometimes 
be worn from motives of pure 
personal vanity. In fact, we 
were again the slaves of pre- 

I looked at him pointedly. 
Charles rose before he re- 
plied. " Sey m our We n t- 
worth," he said, at last, 
gazing down upon me with 
lofty scorn, '* your moral- 
izing is ill-timed. It ap- 
pears to me you entirely 
misunderstand the position and duties of a 
private secretary ! " 

The oddest part of it all; however, was this 
—that Charles, being convinced Forbes- 
Gaskell, though he wasn't Colonel Clay, had 
been fraudulently salting the rocks with gold, 
with intent to deceive, took no further notice 
of the alleged discoveries. The consequence 
was that Forbes-Gaskell and Sir Adolphus 
went elsewhere with the secret ; and it was 
not till after Charles had sold the Seldon 

Castle estate (which he did shortly after- 
ward, the place having somehow grown 
strangely distasteful to him) that the present 
(i Seldon Eldorados, Limited," were put upon 
the market by Lord Craig-Ellachie, who pur- 
chased the place from him. Forbes-Gaskeil, 
as it happened, had reported to Craig- Ellachie 
that he had found a lode of high-grade ore 
on an estate unnamed, which he would parti- 
cularize on promise of certain contingent 
claims to founder's shares : and the old lord 
jumped at it. Charles sold at grouse-moor 
prices ; and the consequence is that the 
capital of the Eldorados is yielding at present 
very fair returns, even after allowing for 


by Google 

expenses of promotion — while Charles has 
been done out of a good thing in gold- 
mines ! 

But, remembering "the position and duties 
of a private secretary," I refrained from point- 
ing out to him at the time that this loss was 
due to a fixed idea — though as a matter of 
fact it depended upon Charles's strange pre- 
conception that the man with the wig, 
whoever he might be, was trying to diddle 

Original from 




By Jeremy Broom el 

M .*. 


IGHTNING dearly loves a 

tortuous path. Sometimes, 

of course, it goes straight to 

business and does not stop 

on the way, but, in the 

majority of cases, it meanders 

about the empyrean, curls itself up in a lot 

of knots, shoots out in flashing filaments, 

and when it gets tired of roaming, comes 

down to visit the gas-pipes and stir things up 

generally. It is a brilliant visitor, but modest 

people usually avoid it — or try to. In fact, 

some people put spikes up to ward it off, but 

there have been cases where even this 
pointed rebuke has failed. 

Be that as it may. In this article we are 
not concerned with lightning-rods, but with 
the lightning Rash and the ruin it leaves 
behind. To illustrate it, we have an almost 
unprecedented collection of photographs. 
We have pictures of tall oaks laid low, stone 
walls shattered, trousers demolished, and 
boots in frightful collapse. And, to crown it 
all, we have a photograph of a thunderbolt that 
wasn't a thunderbolt, and a picture of zigzag 
lightning, the like of which was never seen. 

VaL *m.-& 

jew- a Phot*, by H, C Rh**U, Spin** Gbauvatory. Ltni bg tte Oa^l Jfa!toi*Zu0iAx! Soctety. 





from a Vhoto r lent bu ShzUvril Uiiwd^ £■*., FR-S. 

Let us attend to this zigzag lightning, 
From time immemorial it has been the 
custom of artists to depict lightning in the 
jagged form shown by our reproduction 
(3), But the artists have all been wrong. 

Nasmyth, the inventor, in 1856, contributed 
a notable paper to the British Association, 
and gave scientific support to the accuracy of 
Turner's observation. Yet some artists still 
use the zigzag flash, and delight therein. 

There are several distinct kinds of 
lightning, and most of these are illustrated 
by our photographs. In order, however, to 
show immediately the great contrast between 
the various forms, we avoid following, for 


From n Pboto, tent by ShttfQnl BidvtlU Jto -* F.HJR 

the moment, the order in which the pictures 
are arranged, and refer to them only 
by their numbers. Number 4, for instance, 
lent to us by Mr. Shelford Bidwell, 
F.R.S., is an excellent specimen of "ribbon 
lightning"; (5) is a triple flash of "meandering 
lightning," in which "knots" are distinctly 
seen; {7) is also an excellent specimen of 
"meandering lightning," It was taken in 
Newark, New jersey, the camera being 

1 a Photo, tmt btf StuJJord BirfietlU 
Ktq., f.Jfci 1 . 

Out of the thousands of 
photographs that amateurs 
and professionals have taken, 
there has never been a case 
of a zigzag flash, and it must 
now be admitted that Nature 
never works in such a 
crooked way. The great 
Turner was the first to paint 
lightning as it really is, and 
in one of his famous land- 
scapes we find a simple 
thread of light in the midst 


/if tU ~*K_*wi_nr 1 j ft— SINL'OUS LIGHTWi*!^ WITH fl!A*» J FIXATIONS* 

OT die gatnenng CIQUQS. j^g Phot(K h ^ a Batto^&itoPateUJ&Mtr t&wmt+Infi 


trUuret, Fraim 



From a Photo, bjf Wm. Archibald, Newark. Lent bjf the Royal Met&uwlovital Socitty. 

forty -nine feet from the telegraph-pole, 
which the lightning touched. The Sydney 
photo. (2), which we mention later, gives 
a fine idea of the '* ramified lightning," in 
which the small flashes are attached to the 
main flashes, as fibres are to the roots of 
trees. A like effect is shown in (6), which is 
more properly called " sinuous" lightning, as 

most of the flashes keep 
the same general direc- 
tion, though bending 
irregularly from side 
to side ; (8) shows the 
ramified Sash. 

One of the most 
remarkable flashes 
ever photographed is 
shown in {2). It was 
taken at Sydney Obser- 
vatory on December 
7th, 1892. The flash 
on to the water was 
1,540ft long, and was 
not all taken, the upper 
part being above the 
limit of the camera. 
The point at which it 
.struck was z t oooft 
from the camera, and 
the camera was 16 oft. 
a bo ve th e wa t er. H o w 
well the photograph 
shows the sleeping 
town ! Yet the night 
was pitch dark, except 
for the brilliancy of the 
lightning, and the plate 
was so good that it 
shows even the lights 
of the street-lamps. 
As a further illustration of the different 
forms, we reproduce three striking photo- 
graphs with characters all their own* The first 
(9) is distinctly ramified, and its seeming 
connection with the steamship makes it mar- 
vellously attractive. But, so far as we know, the 
flash may have been miles and miles beyond 
the ship. The next photo* (10) shows u stream" 

Fran a Photo. I v" 



[J. Craik, Evm§ Bay. 





Frmn a Photo, fatt b u iht Royvl Mitearoloirknl Soctily, 

lightning near Trinity College, Cambridge, 
about midnight on June 6th, 1 889. The flash 


Frvma Photo, hy Valtniine Blanchard *£ Lwm T Cambridge 

appears to descend directly upon the build- 
ings in the background. The Dubuque, Iowa, 
photograph (1} shows a curiously-formed 

flash seen at 10 p.m. on July 17th, 1887, I* 
needs but a mouth and an eye to make it a 
perfect profile on the sky, 

The subject of " lightning prints " has, for 
many years, occupied the attention of 
scientists. It was first brought to the notice 
of the public by Professor Andreas Poey, of 
Havana, who, in a small pamphlet, published 
in 186 1, cited some two-score cases, in which 
lightning had photographed objects upon the 
human skin. In 1825, it was said, a sailor t 
who had been mending his shirt at the foot 
of a mast, was struck by lightning, and when 
the dead body was undressed, the image of 
a horse-shoe was distinctly visible upon the 


From a Photo, by Griyfyr. Brua^ Dun*, A*. IS. 

small of the back — an exact representation, 
in short, of a horse- shoe nailed to the ship's 
mast. Another sailor, struck in the same 
manner, had the name of his ship plainly 
marked upon his breast Trees, birds, 
cows, crosses, and other objects have been 
photographed in like manner, so it is said. 
At Errol, a few years ago, the picture of a 
roof of a house was reported to have been 
seen on an insulator. But the most remark- 
able story of all has been written about 
six sheep killed by lightning about four 
miles from Bath, in 181 2. When the skins 
of the sheep were taken off, "a fac- 
simile of a portion of the surrounding 
scenery was visible on the inner surface of 
each skir^n gin al from 




Of these remarkable occurrences, 
nowever, there have been no photo- 
graphs. Indeed, the only photograph 
of a lightning print which has been 
published is probably that reproduced 
herewith (n). It represents the 
arm of a boy who was standing by 
a yew-tree at Duns, in Berwick- 
shire, on June 9th, 1SS3. When the 
tree was struck the boy was thrown 
across the road, and upon examina- 
tion, he was found to have the 
"impression of the yew-tree 
branches n distinctly marked upon 
his skin. The beautiful fern -like 
figure would certainly tempt one to 
believe that the tree had been 
photographed upon the flesh, but 
the phenomena is probably due 
simply to the ramifications of the 
electric fluid, such as may be seen 
on a sheet of deflagrated gold-leaf. 
If this is true, people have been 
tricked for a century by these reports 
of " lightning prints," 

The effect of lightning on wearing 
apparel is most curious. A glance 
at our reproduction (12) will show 
that when a flash once gets on terms 
of familiarity with a suit of clothes, 
it leaves nothing to speak of. 
The photograph was taken by W, 
Marriott, Secretary of the Royal 
Meteorological Society, after a thun- 
derstorm, which passed over the Spaniard's 
Farm, Hampstead Heath, on June 14th; 
1888- Two workmen were eating dinner 
under a tree when the flash came, rendering 
one senseless and stunning the other The 


Frttfn a Vh- '•> by H , n M a ■. ■. f .'■..■ ,■ 

choristers' boots burnt by lightning at atcimm ciilkcii, 


From a Photo, ty J. lofrv* ^ftf*™*-* 1 * La/ti by ff. J. Spm***** M*, F.R>S. 

stunned man felt no p&in, but discovered 

that his trousers were burning, that his knife 

had been knocked out of his hand, and that 

his steel buckles had been torn from his 

legs. When he had put the fire out in what 

was left of his trousers, he 

managed to crawl to the 

road for assistance. The 

first man had burns on his 

right side from shoulder to 


It is difficult to account 
for the disruptive effect 
that lightning has upon 
clothes, but it is supposed 
that the current travels 
along the damp surface of 
the skin, driving the mois- 
ture into vapour, which, on 
account of its expansion, 
blows the clothes to tatters. 
The boots shown m {13) 
were doubtless burst by 
this means. They belong 
nifatkome very respectable 






From b 1'hotn. t*7*t bjr Hti-mv* Mdd*tt t E*q. f 

i'lavford. Ifiawwh. 

choir boys in Atcham Church, 
Shrewsbury, which, in July, 
1&79, was visited by lightning* 
It may be said, in passing, that 
the clothes of women are much 
less likely to be shattered by 
lightnirg than the clothes of 
men. Feminine apparel is 
loose, whereas the comparative 
tightness of masculine attire, 
and the greater tendency to 
perspiration, offer excellent 
opportunity for the explosion 
of expanded vapour. 

To show the deadly effect 
of a lightning flash, we repro- 
duce a photograph (14) sent 
to us by Herman BiddeH, 
Esq. f of Play ford t Ipswich. 
Mr. Biddell writes that the 
beasts were found lying under 
a tree near Bury St. Edmunds, 
and in an interesting paragraph 
says, apropos of damage to 
trees : " I fancy the pulveriza- 
tion of the bark of a tree full 
of sap is the effect of the 
moisture being instantly con- 
verted into steam, I do not 
think we have any conception 
of the heat generated by the 
electric fluid being brought into 

From n I'htitn. bjf Admiral J. P. Jfocluv? . Lira l>v tiu /tajm! JTetarttkktfinrZ Stefety. 




i n Photo, by if in Aw** Nmcmm* FtitiPtU Halt, nrmvlan, .\>.rf:,ik. 

morning the tree pre- 
sented the appearance 
shown in the photo- 
graph (16). A hen 
which had been under 
the tree was killed, but 
some of her chickens 
escaped with their 
feathers on fire. 

Lightning, so runs 
the old saying, never 
strikes twice in the 
same place, but* like a 
bought affidavit, the 
statement is false. Not 
only does it some- 
times strike twice, but 
it finishes things up 
when it comes the 
second time, as wit- 
ness the oak in (17), 
This splendid tree was 

contact with non - conducting 
matter. Dead trees are never 
struck by lightning ; at least, I 
never yet saw one," 

The tree in (14), it may be 
noticed, was little harmed, 
although the poor beasts under 
it were killed. In (15) we note 
the effect upon the tree. This 
oak was struck at 2 p.m,, on 
Apri 1 27th, 1895, a quarter of a 
mile west of Ewhurst Church, 
Surcey* It sometimes happens 
that a tree gets off with a scar, 
or with the loss of a little bark. 
But in the case of oaks and 
elms, of which lightning is par- 
ticularly amorous, the damage 
is often enormous. Elm, chest- 
nut oak, and pine are often 
struck ; ash rarely ; beech, 
birch, and maple never. At 
least, so wrote once a scientist, 
Mr, Hugh Maxwell, to the 
American Academy in 1787. 

On the evening of September 
12th, 1S96, during a violent 
thunderstorm, a large walnut 
tree in full leaf, in the village of 
Feltwell, in Norfolk, was struck 
by lightning and set on fire. 
The tree blazed most of the 
night, in spite of heavy rain, 
until the trunk, which was partly 
hollow, the tree being an old 
one, split open, and the next 


Prom a Photo, by Admiral J. P. Maeicar. Lent oy ita Rttyit Mehorvtoffiml Socitiv, 




took place on May 31st, 1894, 
and the benevolent - looking 
gentleman standing behind 
the ruins is Mr. Clark, aged 
eighty-four. The photograph 
was lent by G. J. Synions, 
Esq., who obtained it from 
Mr- Clark's son. 

Professor Tyndall used to 
tell a story of a lady who, 
shutting a window casement 
during a storm, had the gold 
bracelet on her arm defla- 
grated by a flash, which left 
her perfectly unhurt, but with 
a blue mark around her wrist, 
The blue mark was oxide of 
gold — all that was left of the 
bracelet. Another lady had her 
bonnet burnt, the wire frame 
having attracted the lightning, 
but the wearer was unhurt. 

From a Fhoto. by Frank Hu1iwj ( Cii/ltm. L*nt by th* AtopaJ MeUoroloffieal Sotvtv, 

first struck on June 6th, 1889, at 5-30 p*m,j 
and the next day at half-past one it was 
shivered and split open. The ruin stands on 
Old Farm, Sachel Court, four miles from 
Cranleigh, Surrey. 

More picturesque than (r?) is the ruin 
shown in {18). The trunk of this tree was 
ruptured from top to bottom in a series of 
twisted splits. In this case, the sap of the 
tree was probably converted into vapour, with 
the explosive result. The accident occurred 
at Thorn bury, Gloucestershire, July 22nd, 
1 89 1, The tree was an oak. 

The accompanying reproduction (19) shows 
the damage done to a stone wall on Cop Hill t 
Allonby, Cumberland. The thunderstorm 

<aK r 




JULV 5. l&77< 

From a rhoto. lent h\f is, J. $V»l-£>rU. 
Etq . t FRS, 

Now comes the " thun- 
derbolt " - that is to say, 
7 on 

From a Photo, 

part of it. It " fell 
July 5th, 1877, at Kilburn, 
and was picked up by 
James Parbett, of the Kil- 
burn PI re Station, when it 
- the thunderbolt — was 
cold " Three peals of 
thunder," says a news; >a per 
account, " were heard in 
quick succession, and with 
the last a sheet of fire 
it****.* sw. &*. kkJ. ingmal isecmed to fall into Bridge 




2L AND a-1*- 

h'r'uHi PhobJ*. Imt fry A. Dixon, *,'*/., Lcthr.rhettd. 

Street^ (Mark that "seemed") " The 
thoroughfare/' continues the account, 
" seemed to be completely in flames, and a 
material similar to molten metal descended, 
which, on reaching the ground, coagulated, 
leaving behind clinkers from an inch to six or 
seven inches in circumference/' Our picture 
(20) shows one of these pieces j but how 
like an ordinary domestic clinker it looks ! 
Well, it is a clinker, and fell from one of the 
fire-engines engaged in putting out the great 
Kilburn conflagration. The (h molten metal " 
which u descended" was probably a bit of 
telegraph wire broken and fused by the flash. 
At least, this is the conclusion of a noted 
scientist who has a passion for hunting 
" thunderbolts " down. 

Through the 
kindness of Abra- 
ham Dtxon, Esq., 
of Cherkley Court, 
I ^therhead, we 
are able to show 
the astonishing 
result of a light- 
ning flash, which 
occurred in his 
gardener's house 
during a storm on 
September 7th, 
1895. The tumbler 
{21) was struck, 
causing a fracture 
of a perfectly 
annular character, 
interrupted only 
by the triangularly 
s ha ped crack 
shown in (22). So 
neatly was the 

gkiss cracked that the ring {which was 
about half an inch in width) could be lifted 
from the tumbler and replaced with a perfect 
fit. After the storm was over, it was found 
in place, although perfectly detached. 

Fusion is one of the catastrophes that 
sometimes happen to poorly-made lightning- 
rods, sometimes on account of poor material, 
and frequently on account of unequal 
resistances offered by different portions of 
the rod. Our reproduction {23) shows 
portions of a conductor, fused at Upwood 
Gorse, Caterham, on May 28th, 1879. The 
circular rod was fused at the screwed union, 
as shown. The plaited cop per- wire failed, 
probably on account of a bad joint with the 
circular rod. 

by Google 

/■Voir* a i'hoUi. terdbf (J, J> £|fftUHU, E* { , #Ut£. 

Original from 


Dr. Bernard's Patient. 

By Henry E. Dudeney. 




by profession an artist. His 
father, a prosperous City mer- 
chant, would have preferred 
i tjhat his son .had joined him in 
business, but Herbert's tastes 
did not lie at all in that direction. He had 
studied many years in the best London and 
Paris studios, and was an enthusiast and a 
very successful landscape painter. 

His mother had been dead some years, 
and he had neither brother nor sister. There 
was a foster-brother who had turned out 
very badly, and who, after repeated attempts 
at his reform had failed, had been cut adrift 
and disowned. This person, whose Christian 
name was Jacob, was, during his boyhood, 
ungrateful, quarrelsome and vindictive, and 
intolerably jealous of Herbert, whom he grew 
to positively hate. Herbert had not seen 
Jacob for many years — not, in fact, since 
they were youths — but he occasionally heard 
rumours of the man's misdeeds. 

When old Mr. Heathfield died, it was well 
known that Herbert had inherited all his 
wealth, which was considerable. The artist, 
who had, so long as it was necessary, been in 
receipt of a sufficient allowance from his 
father, had not yet resolved how he would 
make use of his newly-acquired riches, but 
he determined to travel for the first few years. 
He consequently came up to London, so 
soon as the will was proved and the affairs 
connected with the estate finally settled, to 
make some necessary arrangements. 

One night he had been visiting an old 
acquaintance in South London, and he re- 
mained until a late hour. As it was fine fc 
though very dark, he thought he would go 
back to his hotel on foot. He was a man 
accustomed to taking long walks, and since 
he had been in London he had missed his 
favourite exercise. 

He knew his way well, and sauntered 
leisurely along, smoking his cigar, and think- 
ing out plans for the future. In a short time 
he was on the borders of Clapham Common, 
across which his road lay. He had fancied 
once or twice that he was being followed by 
two or three persons, but had thought that he 
must be mistaken, 

He was about half-way across the commor, 
when suddenly, out of the gloom that sur- 
rounded a clump of straggling trees, three 
men sprang upon him. Herbert was instantly 
on his defence, but as his only weapon was a 
stout walking-stick, which he broke in half at 
the first blow, he had but little chance. How- 
ever, he made the best use he could of his 
fists, and sent one of his assailants rolling on 
the ground. He was turning his attention to 
another, when he received a terrible blow on 
the back of his head — and remembered no 

When Heathfield next recovered con- 
sciousness he found himself in bed. As he 
turned his head a sharp pain shot through 
it, and somehow immediately reminded him 
of the attack made upon him on the com- 
mon. What had happened since ? And — 
w r hat was this bandage across his eyes ? He 
pulled it up and gazed into the room, but it 
was pitch dark. He could not even see the 
window. Where was he ? He kept quite 
still and listened. There was the familiar 
roar of the London traffic : not the subdued 
rumble of night, but the unmistakable roar, 
clash, and jangle of mid-day. He fancied he 
could even hear the rhythmic tramp and 
tingle-tingle-tingle-ting of tramway horses. 
What did it mean — this darkness ? 

He made a movement to raise himself on 
his elbow, when an invisible hand on his 
shoulder gently pressed him back, and a 
woman's voice said, out of the darkness :— 

41 Hush ! Do not rise or excite yourself. 
You have been very ill, but are better now. 

" Who are 


?" asked Heathfield. 


" Where am I ? Why is it so dark ? What 
time is it ? " 

"Be calm, my poor fellow — you are with 
friends. Try to get a little more sleep, and 
then, perhaps, I will explain all" 

"I cannot sleep," he replied. "It is 
impossible for me to be calm until you have 
told me the worst. Speak ! " 

" Do you think you can bear ill news ? " 

11 Yes, yes ! What does this bandage on my 
eyes mean ? Why is it so dark ? " 

Terrible apprehensions were springing up 
within him. She placed her cool hand on 
his hot forehead. 

Original from 




fc * Poor fellow ! Then I fear I must tell 
you. You are blind ! " 

" Blind 1 Blind ! Oh f my God, it cannot 
be I What cursed fate is this ? Blind ! What 
h life to me without vision ? Every pleasure 
of my existence came through my eyes ! 
How can I go through the world in perpetual 
darkness? Never to see the light of 
Heaven again ! " 

He reached out his hand, and took hold 
of hers in a frenzied grasp. 

u Oh, it is impossible ! Woman, who ever 
you are, you He ! " 

" *Twere better I did," she replied ; *' but, 
alas, it is too true ! You were found, wounded 
and insensible, on the common by Dr. Paul 
Bernard, as he was returning from a patient 
at two o'clock in the morning. He had you 
brought here — to his own house —and I was 
at once engaged as nurse. You have had a 
narrow escape of your life, and appear to 
have been the victim of some terrible out- 
rage. Do you know who your assailants 
were ? " 

" 1 have not the slightest idea. Three 
men suddenly sprang on me out of the 
darkness, and one felled me with a terrible 

by Google 

blow on the back of the head, I know no 

"But the principal villainy seems to have 

followed your unconsciousness, for but 

you really must try to compose yourself," 

" I beseech you to go on ! Tell me, is 
there no hope whatever of my recovering my 
sight ? " 

*' Not any, I fear. It would seem as if 
they had deliberately made you blind : 
probably in order to prevent your afterwards 
identifying them." 

" What horrible barbarity ! Why did not 
they kill me outright? 1 ' 

" Everything is being done for you that 
can be done. You must now be as patient 
as possible, and hope for the best. But 
do not again, until you have the doctor's 
permission, remove the bandage from your 
eyes, or you may get a recurrence of inflamma- 
tion. And, above all things, do not attempt 
to rise or turn In your bed. There is also an 
injury to your spine which demands the 
greatest care and rest on your part, and any 
premature strain might disable you from 
rising for the rest of your life/' 

Heathfield clenched his fists, and the 

Original from 

5 2 


features of his face told of great mental agony 
as he uttered a. prolonged groan. To be blind 
was, indeed, terrible enough ; but not to be 
able to use his limbs, to be compelled to lie 
on his back for the rest of his days, would 
be insufferable torture. 

Wishing from the bottom of his heart that 
he were dead, he soon fell into a restless 

Day after day the w r retched man lingered 
on in the darkness that held no hope of 
dawn. The doctor visited him two or three 
times a day, and spoke cheerfully and hope- 
fully to him. As for his nurse, she was kind 
and sympathetic, and most assiduous in her 

Heath field had no very near relatives, and 
only a few friends, that he cared to com- 
municate with. To one or two he dictated 
short letters, and one acquaintance he desired 
to call and see him. The doctor preferred 
that he should not be excited by visitors for 
a while, but consented to this one friend 
being admitted. However, a letter arrived in 
a day or two saying thiat he had been called 

Dr. Bernard communicated with the police, 
and one day a man came and took down his 
patient's depositions. No clue, though, was 
discoverable as to the assailants. 

One day when Heath field had been talking 
to the doctor about his prospects, the patient 
urged him to let him discharge some of his 
indebtedness. At first Bernard protested 
against any present discussion of the subject, 
but at length yielded, and it was decided 
that Heathfield should give him fifty pounds 
on account. 

A cheque-book had been found in one of 
his pockets, and this was produced. Under 
the guidance of the doctor, who directed his 
pen to the beginning of each line, he filled 
up the body of the cheque and signed it. 
The writing was so successful that Bernard 
congratulated him pleasantly on his blind 

But, oh, those terrible days — or, rather, in- 
terminable nights ! How Heathfield cursed 
his fate ! How he cursed those infamous 
brutes for not completing their work ! Some- 
times his nurse would sit and talk to him for 
. hours together ; sometimes she would tell him 
all the news of ihe day, and even sing to him, 
for she had a pleasing and well-trained voice. 
One day she was sitting by his bedside hold- 
ing his hand. 

" Ah !" said Heathfield, "you cannot con- 
ceive, Mildred " (for so he had come to call 
her), " what it means to be doomed to utter 

by K: 



darkness for life. To one who had trained 
his eyes to see innumerable beauties of 
Nature that are not regarded by most men, 
it is an intensified torture. I would rather 
a thousand times that I were dead and 

" Oh, you should not say that. Beautiful 
thoughts and pleasing sounds are still possible 
for you. Though you cannot see the blue 
sky, you can hear the brook; though the 
woodland foliage is invisible to you, you may 
still delight in the songs of birds and in the 
art of music. The rose is still fragrant to 
you and the fruits of the earth as full of 

" What you say is doubtless true in the 
case of the blind man who is otherwise 
perfect in body. But here am I, hopelessly 
infirm, and " 

" No," she broke in, "not hopelessly. As 
Dr. Bernard told you to-day, it is quite 
possible that you may recover the full use of 
your body. But your only chance is a pro- 
longed rest : it may be only for a few months, 
or it may be for longer." 

" But I feel no pain whatever ! " 

" That is not an uncommon feature in such 
cases as yours, and it is distinctly in your 
favour. You are getting on well, and must 
try to be as patient as possible. Any rash 
action now might cause you life-long regrets. 
You know the great specialist you wished 
called in agreed in every particular with Dr. 
Bernard's treatment." 

"Do you know, Mildred," he went on, 
"there is one bright spot in all my gloom — 
one thing that saves this world, for me, from 
being purgatory ? " 

"What is that?" she said. 

" Can you not guess ? It is your sympathy. 
For you do pity me, Mildred, do you not? " 

He drew her hand to his lips, as she stood 
over him smoothing his pillow. Suddenly 
Heathfield felt a hot tear drop on his cheek 
and trickle down to his ear. That one little 
drop of water meant more to him than 
volumes of words. He loved her for it. 

" Mildred, Mildred ! I love you." 

But she hastily dragged her hand from his, 
and whispered in his ear : — 

" Hush ! For God's sake, keep quiet," and 
was gone. 

What could this mean ? Why did she 
urge him to keep quiet? Why this air of 
mystery ? Then, all at once, it became clear 
to him. She feared lest Dr. Bernard should 
see or overhear his words and dismiss her, 
He knew how rigid were the rules in this 
respect at the hospitals, Byt this w?s not a 




hospital, and all expenses were defrayed by 
himself Still, he thought it prudent not to 
have any unpleasantness with Dr. Bernard, 
and resolved to be cautious in future, 

During the rest 
of the evening he 
did not again 
refer to the sub- 
ject. Mildred 
was m and out 
of his room a 
good dea 1 , ! but 
the conversation 


was merely that of patient and nurse. As 
the evening closed in ^he came and quietly 
bid him good-night and retired. 

Soon the house was still and the noise of 
the street grew hushed and mellowed. He 
could not sleep, but restlessly turned his 
head from side to side on the pillow, Had 
he done wrong in telling Mildred that he 
loved her? It was selfish of hirn to expect 
or ask her to devote her life to a living 
wreck like himseir, and perhaps lie had 
mistaken love for gratitude in his own case, 
and sympathy for love in hers. 

A horrible despondency and despair came 
over him. His mind ran on suicide, and he 
thought of various ways of destroying life. 
There was only one way that was practicable, 
and that was to open an artery* He had 
studied anatomy when painting m the studios* 
and could do this successfully. And yet how 
was he to obtain a knife or a pair of scissors? 
Under what pretext could he ask for such an 
article? The request would at once excite 

Then he remembered that he always carried 
a penknife in his waistcoat pocket. If his 

Digitized by VjOOQ IC 

clothes were only in the room and he could 
manage to drag himself to them ! Should he 
try ? Even if the strain cost him his life, so 
much the better. It was only another way 

to the desired end. 
While he was yet 
resolving on his 
course of action, he 
heard the door very 
quietly open and 
somebody stealthily 

"Who is that?" 
he called out. 

41 Hush ! Do nut 
speak. It is Mil- 
dred/' said the 
nurse in a whisper, 
as she bent over 
him. U I have come 
to befriend you, at 
the risk of my life, 
because I love you. 
Yes, I really love 
you, But I am 
under oath. The 
doors tonight will 
be unlocked. Save 
yourself. I cannot 
say more. Farewell, 
my poor Herbert. 
God protect you ! w 
She bent down 
and kissed his forehead. 

41 Mildred/' he said, in a loud whisper, 
u one word ! ' A 

But he heard the door gently close. She 
had gone. 

u Befriend me I " he muttered to himself. 
" At the risk of her life ! Under oath ! She 
said the doors would be unlocked and urged 
me to save myself. What does it mean? 
Am I mad ? If not, what is all this mystery? 
Can it be that Dr. Bernard also loves Mildred, 
and that jealousy prompts him to take my 
life? Well, let him ! I do not wish to live." 

So his thoughts ran on for some minutes, 
Then tin v suddenly took another direction. 

11 But why should I be a coward ? What 
would Mildred think if she knew that I had 
not made the least effort to save myself, not- 
withstanding the warning ? " 

In the excitement of apprehension, and of 
some mysterious impending danger, he no 
longer stopped to reason out any definite 
plan, but acted on the impulse of the moment. 
Dragging the bedclothes away from one side, 
he slid his body round until his legs were 
hanging over the edj*e of the bed Then hq 
Original from 




began to raise himself to a sitting posture, 
and was surprised to find that not only was 
there no pain, but that so far he had encoun- 
tered but little difficulty. 

Soon, however, a faintness came over him, 
and he had to throw himself back on the 
pillows for a rest, In a few minutes he again 
sat up and let his feet touch the carpeted 
floor. Next he tried to stand erect, holding 
on to the back of the bedstead Oh, how his 
knees shook under him ! How inexpressibly 
feeble he had become ! 

Taking occasional rest*, he managed to 
stagger about the room 
and get, through the sense 
of touch, some knowledge 
of its size and contents. 
It was a fairly large room, 
with a heavy marble 
mantelpiece of :i kind 
usually only found on the 
ground or first floors of 
houses. Judging from the 
furniture, he thought it 
was a sitting - room that 
had been specially and 
hastily converted into the 
uses of a bedroom. There 
were no dressing - table 
and washhand-stand — no 
looking-glass or wardrobe. 
He felt a large bookcase 
and a round pedestal table, 
also bearing many books, 
and a capacious easy-chair. 

He had searched in 
vain for clothes, when his 
Foot caught in something 
that had fallen from the 
back of a chair. He 
picked it up, and felt a 
garment with a cord and 
tassels. It was a man's 
dressing-gown. He felt 
cold, and would put it on. 

"What is that?" he 
said to himself, as something jingled in one 
of the pockets as he was tying the cord round 
his waist He put in his hand and drew out 
a tin box of wax vestas* 

He was replacing the matches in his 
pocket, when an idea occurred to him. He 
had often heard that blind men could tell the 
difference between light and darkness, that 
they could not only feel, but in a sense see 
a bright light when it shone on their sightless 
eyes. He would try the effect in his own 
case nf holding a light close to his eyes. 

He took out a match and prepared to 

strike it on the roughened side of the box, 
One blow, and with a sharp crackle the piece 
of waxed cotton burst into a flame. The 
light fell full on Herbert Healhfield's face 
and illuminated the room, 

11 Great heavens ! lam not blind ■ I 
see ! I see ! ?l he exclaimed, in a frenzy, 
and fell senseless on the floor. 

The fallen match had set fire to the bed, 
and the room was wrapt in flames and stifling 
with smoke* When Heath field revived he 
was half choked, but someone was dragging 
him from the room, and his head was 


by \j>C 


*i;hkat heavens! i am not blind t" 

drenched with cold water that had been 
thrown on him. He struggled to his feet, 
and saw that the person who had saved his 
life was Mildred. 

"Now, for Heavens sake, fly ! " she cried, 
i4 1 hear him on the stairs. He will kill both 
you and me ! " 

Before he could stop her she had fled 
through a door. He immediately followed, 
and found himself in a hall with moonbeams 
streaming in through the fanlight. He ran 
to the street door and passed out As he 
descended the steps, he heard a cry and 

Original from 



looked round. Mildred was trying to follow, 
but was being dragged back by Dr. Paul 
Bernard. He rushed to her assistance, but 
the door was slammed in his face, and he 
fell backwards down the steps into the 

In that brief moment Herbert 
recognised in the person of jflMtfl 

** Dr. Bernard :? his own foster- 
brother Jacob, The ** nurse 1 ' 
he did not know, but she was 
evidently some person who had 
been in his power and forced 
to aid him in carrying out his 
diabolical plot Whether they 
both perished in the fire, 
whether he killed 
the poor woman 
and escaped him- ^ 

self by the back 
of the house, or 
whether both got 
off t is not known. 
The house was 
burnt completely 
to the ground, 
and neither has 
since been heard 

There can be 
no doubt as to 
the nature of the 
plot The man 
Jacob deter- 
mined to obtain 
for himself some 
or all of the 
wealth that Her- 
bert had in- 


herited from his 

father* He therefore had him waylaid, seized, 
rendered insensible, and lodged in a house 
that he had taken and prepared for the pur- 
pose. Persuading him that he was 1)1 ind by 
putting him in a carefully darkened room, 
and making him believe that it was necessary 
for him not to rise from his bed on account 
of spinal injuries, it was possible for him to 
keep Heathfield entirely in his power with- 
out his being able to recognise him or 
suspect what was being done. 

His greatest difficulty lay in the fact that 

the bulk of Herberts property was invested, 
but subsequent inquiries proved that deeds 
and transfers were being prepared for signa- 
ture. The cheque 
that was sup- 
[>osed to have 
been drawn for 
^50 was found 
to be for ^5, 000. 
The pen had evi- 
dently been dry 
until the signa- 
ture was reached, 
when, Herbert 
remembered, I)r, 
Bernard took the 
pen from him for 
a * fresh dip." 
The body of the 
cheque was after- 
wards filled in by 
another hand. 
This amount was, 
fortunately, the 
full extent of the 
spoil The visit of 
the official from 
Scotland Yard to 
take his deposi- 
tions was, of 
course, a hoax, as 
was also that of 
the medical spe- 
cialist Hisletters 
had never been 
posted, while 
fictitious replies 
had been read 
to him. 

Heathfield is 
grateful to his foster-brother for not really 
blinding and disabling him, as he very 
well might have done : even the greatest 
scoundrels have, however, these occasional 
lapses into mercy. He is also greatly concerned 
as to the fate of poor Mildred, who, out 
of her pity and love for himself, probably 
met a terrible fate; and there is one thing 
that Herbert Heathfield has firmly resolved 
to do — to devote a great portion of his 
money and his time to the care of the blind, 
with whom he can now so deeply sympathize. 

by Google 

Original from 


Illustrated by j. A, Shkpherd. 

EVER trust 
wise old an 
her own. 
body does trust 
appearances , every 
day of bis life, with 
varying success, 
For he who never 
trusts appearances 
is as likely to be 
mistaken as he 
who always does 
so. His is the fate 
of all who live by 
rule, unaided by 
the natural gump- 
tion that points 
out the occasion 
for exception. One 
rule there is, how- 
ever, that all may 
go by, wise or 
foolish. Never 
trust a black ani- 
mal. The black 
cat is a witch, as 
everybody knows. 
The black leopard 
is worse than a 
witch. The witch 
may stick pins in 
your effigy, in the 
hope that you will 
feel the pain ; hut 
the black leopard 
will stick claws 
and teeth into 

appearances, says the 

nt with a sour face of 

But the precept is 

by Google 

your actual person, and so put the pain 
beyond all question- There must be some 
reason for the general human horror of all 

black things. Black 
was the mourning 
colour among the 
Romans, who got 
it from the Egyp- 
tians, who had it 
from the begin- 
ning, A bad day 
is a black -letter 
day, A mauvais 
sujet is a black 
sheep, and we put 
him in our black 
list ; and so, being 
in our black books, 
we black-ball him 
at our club. We 
speak of Black 
Monday, Tuesday, 
Wednesday, or any 
other day, when it 
is a day marked by 
evil hap. Wicked 
sorcery was the 
black art ; the con^ 
demning judge 
wears a black cap, 
and did so far 
back as the Black 
Assize j when so 
many died of the 
black death ; and 
even people not 
altogether super- 
stitious regard it 
as very unlucky to 

Original from 



w r - : .--- m ■■■sy*^- ->y.^ ■ f- y . :vr-*fp- - - 

be knocked 
down by a black- 
guard Now, all 
this black smoke 
is not without 
its original fire ; 
and that there 
is something in 
this universal 
dislike of black, 
the negative of 
colour, is evi- 
denced by the 
generally satanic 
character of all 
black animals. 

The black 
leopard is the 
most savage 
and [intractable 
of all quadru- 
peds. Do you remember " Death/ 3 the black 
leopard in Eugene Sue's " Wandering Jew," 
and the horriblej goggle-eyed Englishman who 
followed it about, anxious some day to see 




and wants to 
fight it, to gnaw 
it, to tear it to 
rags and splin- 
ters ; and he is 
staring, dancing 
mad, because 
he can't get at 
the world to do 
it Approach his 
cage. He is 
probably raging 
somewhere in 
shadow, hut, as 
you come near, 
he starts up and 
turns toward 
you, looking like 
—Satan, "Ah," 
he says to him- 
self, " a human 
creature ! Oh, to tear, hite, claw, crunch, and 
break him to scraps ! But, soft, perhaps hell 
come a little nearer — Perhaps near enough to 
grab. G-r-r-r ! I'll crawl across to the other 



it eat its tamer ? " Death " is no whit over- 
draw ti— rather underdone, indeed. ' There is 
a black leopard at the Zoo now ■ his cheerful 
name is Satan- Satan hates the whole world, 

side/' But, no ; tempting as the prospect 
seems, you refrain from offering him a bite of 
your fingers. He lies there, black and deadly, 
his yellow eyes ablaze, ready to bounce on 

— • ••-••-? 

VoL j 




Original' from 




you — if only those bars suddenly melt away ! 
But they don't melt, and you come no nearer. 
Then Satan flings himself at the bars with a 
yell, and flies up and down and over and over 
about his cage, like nothing but a black 
leopard with about three thousand seidlitz 
powders, swallowed separately, and suddenly 
effervescing all together inside him. He 
daws and bites at the walls, the bars, the 
floor, even his o.wn tail and feet, in frantic 
rage at his inability to get near you. And, 
finally, he rolls over on his back, half-choking, 
and crunches in his teeth a mouthful of 
straw snapped from 
the ground, just to 
make you understand 
what would happen 
to your head if it 
were where the straw 
is. And altogether 
Satan's manners are 
not of a patient and 
long - suffering sort. 
There are meeker 
creatures, even among 
the rabbits. And Satan 
is the only member 
of the cat tribe that 
absolutely goes vege- 
tarian with rage. 
Other black leopards 
are much as Satan is : 

and altogether the most animated job a Zoo 
keeper or a menagerie man ever gets is the 
turning of a black leopard out of one cage 
into another. This, more especially if the 
animal be just brought from another place — 
for then, the surroundings being strange, it 
objects to leaving its present quarters, and 
ha.s to be smoked out with smouldering 
damp straw. Then, when at last it does 
come — well! The proceedings are more 
amusing if viewed from a distance. 

Now, zoologists tell us that the black 
leopard is of precisely the same species as 

■■■■ ; u ' ■■--;%■ 



VBUfcTAKI Al*Ntf|Mn 8+<WQ 





the ordinary spotted quality, differ- 
ing from it only as a black cat 
differs from a tabby. So that it 
is plain that the black leopard's 
extra dose of original sin arises 
from his colour alone. Still* it is 
curious that the black leopard 
comes from a particular part — 
Java and the Malay Peninsula — 
and is never found among the 
variegated leopards of India. These 
leopards are really comparatively 
decent, tamable, and often friendly 
—when you know them. But the 
black leopard — never. 

It is a blessed relief to turn from 
Satan to make friends with the 
comparatively soft - hearted lions 
and tigers who are his neighbours. 
It is with difficulty that you restrain 
yourself from rubbing their heads 
to make them purr, or dangling a 
piece of string for them to run 
after. Beside Satan, they are kitten- 
like. And all because he's black. 

Another black rascal is the raven. 
A joker, certainly, but one of 
melancholy exterior. What crea- 
ture in the whole world could Poe 
rave better chosen than the raven 
to say *' Nevermore " ? The raven's 

character and surroundings are an odd 
mixture of the dreary and the comic. 
The raven seems always to be "in at 
the death/ 3 so to speak. What blasted 
oak, what haunted castle, what gallows 
at a cross-road, without its raven? Any 
scene-painter who dabbed in a blasted 
oak or a gallows without the proper 
raven sitting on it would be sacked in 
ignominy, and sent to learn the elements 
of his trade. And if an art-editor 
commissioned an artist to illustrate a 
story with a haunted castle in it, do you 
think that art-editor would accept a 
drawing of that castle absolutely bare 
of ravens ? Not he ; and quite right, 
too. Oh, a sinister, sly f melancholy, 
grim-visaged, and, withal, mischievous 
and humorous bird is the raven. He 
cannot do as much damage, perhaps, as 
a black leopard on the loose, but devas- 
tation and the gloating over it form 
his mission on earth. Thus it is that 
nothing but his sense of humour saves 
him from total, neck-and-crop destruc- 
tion. For people there are who buy 
the raven and keep him as a pet. He 
is getting rarer in this country than he 

■y- *_-i 




was, and usually he is expensive to buy. 
But having bought him, the best thing to do 
next is to give him away instantly ; if possible, 
give him to a a enemy —but, anyway, give 
him to somebody. Then you will limit your 
loss to his original price. 

To look, however, entirely on the bright 
side of raven-keeping, you may get a certain 

ing, begin to count your eggs by hundreds— to 
say nothing of unhitched chickens — and the 
hens themselves dash about madly, anxious 
to discover the unknown champion egg-layer 
among them, The raven will make a fool of 
every other creature on the premises — more 
particularly yourself, He will creep close 
behind the cat, and startle it with a sudden 


amount of fun for your money : f you are a 
millionaire, and don't mind giving up all your 
worldly possessions to the raven to do as he 
likes with. There will be certain jokes with 
the fowls. He will learn to crow and to cluck 
before he learns anything else, and he will 
cluck away sKIy behind a door, till you, listen- 

bark. He will call the dog, in your own 
voice, from various invisible points of the 
stable-roof, till something approaching hydro- 
phobia takes possession of the worried 
quadruped. He will quarrel with the parrot, 
and pluck feathers from its tail. He will 
tell horses. tdciiKGsltfnsSMft'r there," and then to 





get back again, till they sweat and plunge. 
He frill chase terrified housemaids and peck 
at their heels. He will dog the steps of the 

gardener stealth- 
ily as he beds out 
rare and valuable 
plants, and he 
will tear thern up 
and drag them alt 

'■v : :. 


about the premises with triumphant croaks, 
He will hop in at the kitchen window, and 
leave a few scattered bones where the cook 
placed a newly 
trussed fowl ; and 
if the cook doesn't 
moderate her ob- 
jections to the 
meal, he will as 
likely as not top 
up with a little 
dessert off her 
fingers. True, he 
will also catch an 
mouse ; but, prob- 
ably, only because 
he imagines mice 

to be a valuable possession of yours, which 
you are anxious to keep alive and in good 
condition. When he has kilted a mouse he will 
not straightaway eat it, as a cat would do ; he 
will carefully separate it into joints and hang 
them round the wires of his own habitation, 
in the manner of a butcher's shop— a leg, a 
shoulder, another leg, the head, the brisket, 
and so on + He will gloat over these for some 
little while before he 
begins his meal, and 
call passers - by to 
admire his stock, And 
he will altogether be a 
big, sardonic, terrible, 
demoniac bird» and— 

« Halloa, halloa, hal- 
loa ! What's the matter 
here ? Keep up your 
spirits ! Never say die ! 
Bow-wow- wow ! I'm a 
devil ; I'm a devil ; 
I'm a devil ! Hurrah ! ? ' shouted Grip, the 
raven in "Barnaby Rudge," Now, this Grip 
was Dickens's own raven, which died through 

eating white paint 
— if only it had 
been black paint, 
probably there 
would have been 
no trouble. Now, 
an ordinary man 
owning a raven, 
and so fortunate 
as to have it die, 
would probably 
— echoing the 
11 Nevermore 3! of 
Foe's particular 
raven — cut him- 


rip*^ that Door Original frorr 




self off from all raven society for the 
future. But the great novelist, daring Fate, 
bought another raven, which died {with its 
eye on the meat roasting in the kitchen) after 
a liberal meal of glazier's putty. Again, if 
this had only been tar, or black cobblers 
wax, the raven would probably have lived to 
vex the world for many years, The virgin 
purity of white paint, the pale innocence of 
glazier's putty, agree not with the sombre 
blackness and 
devilry of the 
raven. He is 
another of the 
creatures in sil- 

Truly there is 
something un- 
canny in a black 
cat t if only you 
look at it (re- 
membering tiles 
of witchcraft and 
the Black Cat 
tale— Foe's) till 
the creature hyp- 
notizes you* It 
is said to be 
lucky for a black 
cat to come into 
the house; but 
if it goes out 
again in com- 
pany with a fil- 
leted sole, the 
case is altered 
And all authori- 
ties agree that 
it is unlucky to 
fall over a black 
cat and break 
your nose. In 
the old days, i 
when witchcraft 
was still a re- £ 
spectable and 
rem u nerati ve 
profession, the black cat was found to be a 
useful, cheap, portable, and convenient form 
in which to put up one's familiar demon. 
Moreover, it was an equally useful, portable, 
cheap, and convenient form to adopt oneself 
when pressed for space, anxious to preserve 
incognito, or desirous of seeing in the dark. 
Though it must have been a trifle trying to a 
witch of weak stomach to have to play up to 
the character by eating mica. The devilish 
atmosphere about it has made the black 

cat also commercially useful in the trade of 
novel-writing. If ever you want to invest 
a character with mysterious, thrilling, occult, 
and not altogether human attributes, you 
put a black cat handy to climb about the 
character's knees and neck and rub against 
his (or her) legs. That strikes the occult 
note at once. The character immediately 
becomes mystic, a dabbler in forgotten lore, 
a creature of magnetic power— perhaps even 

a Freemason or 
an Oddfellow, 
Or if it be a 





w o m a n , 
claimed a 
from the begin- 
ning, and the 
cat her familiar 
spirit. The very 
first professional 
i m pie merit a 
wizard " has in " 
(from the stores 
nowadays, no 
doubt) is a black 
cat, as big as 
possible, with 
eyes warranted 
to gleam un- 
ceasingly, and 
the proper im- 
proved phos- 
back, guaran- 
teed to light a 
pipe when rub- 
bed the wrong 
way. It comes 
even before the 
; extinguisher hat 
(black, of 
course), and the 
black velvet 
dressing - gown 
with triangles 
and skulls all 
over it, and the 
indubitable old black-letter book (with more 
triangles) to be turned over attentively while 
the wizard looks sideways at the visitor's 
umbrella handle to read his name on the 
silver band, and astound him presently by his 

The Egyptians knew many things. As we 
have seen, they knew all about black as a 
mourning colour long before the first orthodox 
British funeral started from the original 
British undertaker's shop. He must have 




as to cats, they invented our cat superstitions* 
or derived them from the misty beginning, 
even as they did the functions of black. He 
who killed a black cat in old Egypt } whether 
by design or by accident, was killed himself. 
For the Egyptians knew many things, and 
doubtless the proverb, 4 * Care killed the cat," 
was familiar among them. " Begone dull 
care," sang the hilarious Pharaoh. 

'* PLUTO I" 

been a great genius, by-t he-bye, that original 
undertaker Only a genius could have fore- 
seen the possibilities of black as an imple- 
ment of trade in the way that undertaker did ; 
only a genius could have handled it with 
such mastery to conjure the ISst coin from 
the shallow pocket of dire affliction. Black 
horses, black palls, black coffins, black vehicles, 
black feathers, black weepers, black hat- 
bands, black clothes — all useless except for 
the occasion, all to be paid for again and 
again and again, with a black settling-day 
fittingly to crown the grief of the bereaved 
every time ! But, as to the Egyptians, and 

sy Google 


Edgar Allan Poe was past -master of 
horror and mystery, and he well knew the 
value of plenty of black in his animals to 
get his effect. He handled the black cat in 
fiction as it had never been handled before, 
and has never been since. He did not 
debase it to a mere accessory, by way of 
imparting mystery to a mere human proprietor. 
The human proprietor was no more 
than a common drunken ruffian 
with his decent qualities drunk out 
of him. The cat Pluto was the 
central figure and hero of the story j 
or perhaps we should say the two 
cats, Pluto the first with his one eye 
and his total blackness, and Pluto 
the second with A is one eye and 
the white trade-mark on his chest — 
the gallows I Read the story in a 
dim room on a black night, and 
enjoy the black horrors, assisted, if 
possible, by the immediate presence 
of many black-beetles. The black- 
beetle himself, by the way, is only 
Original from 







1 ' 







J- ■ 


one more insi.inee of the original proposition 
— never trust a black animal. Who would 
trust a black beetle ? Look at his furtive, 
murderous, round-shouldered deadliness of 
shape — a masked, black -clad beadsman 
among insects, Nobody would trust a black- 
beetle, for he 
is doubly false, 
even to his 
own name. 
For he is 
neither black 
nor a beetle, 
say the accu- 
rate persons — 
he is a cock- 
roach; and 
then he is 
neither t cock 
€ nor a roach. 
Herman exist- 
ence, taking 
its occasional 
sup of horror 
from black 
animals, as it 
goes along— at 

the end black animals, in black velvet and 
black feathers, triumph over its end. There's 
a deal of mystery about an undertaker's 
horse. How does it grow its mane and tail ? 
It is whispered that the tail is often brought 
up tenderly by hand at the upholsterer's, 

and grafted on 
with a bent 
hair-pin. But 
false hair or 
none, the under- 
taker's horse 
triumphs in the 
end* "They 
break us, drive 
us, ride us," 
said the horses 
at Anthony 
Chuzz lew it's 
funeral. "Ill- 
treat, abuse, 
and maim us 
for their plea- 
sure. But 
they die; 
hurrah! they 



"HURRA"! thev uit:" 


Portraits of Celebrities at Different Times of their Lives. 

Front a J'Kotn. by AitoitJv Ban. 

Born 1840. 

holds the unique position of 
l^jfigjq being the first Lord Mayor 
whose father has sat in the 
great civic chair before him. His 
father, Sir Benjamin Phillips— the first 
member of the Jewish fraternity per- 
mitted to hold office in the Corporation 
of London — retired from civic life 
through ill-health in 1888, and the 
present Lord Mayor was appointed to 
the vacant aldermaney. I ,ike his prede- 
cessors, Lord Mayor Phillips is promi- 
nently connected with many societies 
and institutions. He is chairman of 
the Chamber of Commerce, governor 
of the Irish Society, an almoner of 
Christ's Hospital, a trustee of the 
Rowland Hill Pund, and a governor 
of Sl Bartholomew's, Bethlehem, ami 
Bridewell Hospitals. Mr. Faudel 
Phillips is justly noted for his energy 
and skill in the discharge of civic 
and commercial duties. 

Vol* XUL - fl» 48. 


From a Fhuto. b V WPgUffrttf 





Fro-** a 

Born 1S59. 
new Chief Officer of the Metro- 
politan Fire Brigade, was educated 
at Cheltenham, and entered the 

/■>■ -1 ■ l .1 rii-ilu ,'■;..• I AGE 30. [£ymaitrf#jf: C-u^/'^rff^iuurt. 

Navy in 187 1. He saw active service on 
a torpedo-boat during the Egyptian War. 
In 1892 he reached his present rank of 
Commander, and was appointed senior officer 
of a flotilla of torpedo-boat destroyers. 

/>qttt fl l'h»l>< by\ 

Ag& S3. [G> Wat & Son, GvtporL 

Frrmi a Photo. ^3"'" 9 HAeJiV -iJJIV. \ Vault <ft 1 





OVELY O Mimosa San, otherwise Miss 
Marie Tempest, is a native of London, 
and London has made her one of its 
children of fame. Her rise in the 
theatrical world is one almost 

unprecedented when we remember that her 

debut took place in 1887, as Dorothy \ in the 

opera of that name, 

and that she now 

ranks as one of the 

foremost theatrical 

celebrities not only 

in England bat in 

America as well. 

She received her 

education mainly 

in Belgium, and 

htx musical train- 

ing from Manuel 

Garcia* obtaining 

the gold, silver, 

and bronze medals 

for singing. 

She went to 

the United 

AGV, 0. 
fjoniiU.r, A'uo Crwto- 

to her native shores and played 
ht-r part of heroine in u An Artist's 
Model/' with what success is weU 
known. Mr. (ieoige Edwardes's 
pretty piece, "The Geisha," at Daly's, 
gives Miss Tempest yet another 
opportunity of delighting crowded audiences 
in the part of Mimosa S<w. 

ACt 19, 

Fmm a Photo, bv BUM * Fr* 

States in 1890, appearing in u The Red 
Hussar/' " Dorothy/' " Carmen/ 3 ll The 
Fencing Master/ 1 " The Algerian/' and 
other pieces. Four years later she returned 

Jl M 


[Ai/i-ed Mil*, 



Fr&m ft] 

( Painting, 


AGE 24* 


Born 1825. 
D.CLj Bishop of Durham, was 
educated at Trinity College, Cam- 
bridge* His University career 
was of more than ordinary brilliancy, He 
was elected Fellow of his college in 1849, 
and proceeded M.A. in 1851, B.D. in 1865, 

f'tttm tl l"hpt*i. b]f\ 

AGE 52 

[«, A. IFdlUr. 

and D.D, in 1870. Oxford University 
conferred upon him the honorary degree 
of D.C.L. in 1 88 1. In 1851 he was 
ordained deacon and priest by the Bishop 
of Manchester, and in 1879 he became 
Chaplain in Ordinary 

Dr. Westcott resigned his residentiary canonry 
at Peterborough in May, 18&3; he was 
appointed one of the Archbishop of Canter- 
bury's chaplains in the following month ; 

From a Photo, &y] ace 6> \ RMott rf Fry* 

in October of the same year he was nominated 
to the canonry of Westminster, and succeeded 
Bishop Lightfoot in the See of Durham on 
May 1 st, 1890, His theological works are as 
numerous as thev are well known. 

to the Queen, 

Awl a photo. g#] TM^wraNiTOffl 


I KUvjU it fry 

A Child s Memories of Gads Hill 

By Mary Angela Dickens, 


VEN as I write the words I 
stop, and a little smile and a 
little sigh come together as 
childish memories are apt to 
bring them ! For there are 
two Gad's Hills in my life ; two 
which are yet one. 
The picture of the 
square, red - brick 
house, with its 
porch, its bell^ 
turret, and its four 
bow windows, so 
familiar to all 
Dickens lovers, re- 
presents fur me 
not only the misty 
region of these 
scattered, childish 
recollections ; h is 
the picture of my 
home, too — though 
it is many years 
now since I have 
seen it — the pic- 
ture of that child- 
hood's home which 
holds a place in 

one's life never to be filled by the dwelling- 
places of after years. After my grandfather's 
death, my father bought Gad's Hill, and 

I and my brother and sisters grew up 


My home life there was as happy as a 

child's life can l>e, I learned to love 

the place with 

the love of inti- 
mate familiarity. 

And yet, to the 

very last day of 

my life at Gad's 

Hill, there were 

bits about the 

house and garden 

w h i c h never 

seemed to me to 

belong to us— the 

ordinary, every- 
day family party, 

which had taken 

possession ; bits 

which stood out 

vaguely for me, as 

having been left 

behind by that 

other life which 

had preceded 

ours ; as survivals 

of that past which I could dimly remember. 
Quaint enough are some of the details 

with which this atmosphere of the past was 

associated in my mind. There was a little 
grave in the garden, with 
a little tombstone, suiting 
forth the fact that this 



Fnuri a l*fu>Iu. hu Ynmlyk, Oltfit£etUr 

/■Vwro a] 


J:'i •txx.ot.f. 



was " The grave 
oi 1 M-k, the best 
of birds." This 
best of birds, 1 
knew, had be- 
longed to the 
" Auntie w — my 
eldest daughter 
— who had been 
mistress of the 
Gad's Hill of 
those other days 
when I had been 
only a visitor 
there. I think 
I had a misty 
feeling that tin- 
grave of Dick 
was lonely, now 
that its mistress 
had gone away, 
and I was sorry 
for it. The con- 
nection of ideas 
here is, perhaps, 
natural enough. 
But why should 
the looking-glass 

From ft Photo, by JSduard Ban**, lirvmpton. 

panels of the 
dining-room door 
have given me, 
so in et i mes — 
even after Gad's 
Hill had been 
my home for 
years — quite an 
eerie sense of 
realization of the 
life that bad 
been? I cannot 
say, I only know 
that I never felt 
anything butmost 
respectful and a 
trifle deprecating 
towards that 

The Gad's Hill 
of my very early 
childhood ; the 
"Gad's" to which 
I used to go on 
visits ; the 
"Gad's " which 
my home of after 
years was, and 
yet never was, to 



1 1 1 ,?]oJtsl3inFi 


— ]—- * — -J 


% mm '!» 

^^^^ "* '••^■t 

'^^^B?" j^d i 


t .'■■<" II J 







m%\ had that about it which stamped 
the remembrance of it clear and distinct 
upon my haby senses as a thing apart 
It had that about it which gave a 
peculiar character to the passionate attach 
ment to the place which grew in me after 
it became my home ; that which gives a 
peculiar halo to its memory, To this day, if 
I hear or read of that mysterious something 
which is known as the magnetic influence ol 
Genius, I fed again, Instinctively, the atmo- 
sphere of my grandfather's home as it 
penetrated the consciousness of a little child 

I have no recollection of ever being told 

I have said that I was never afraid of 
him, and this is true. I was never afraid 
of his presence. But I recall very clearly 
a vague sense of dread, only to be de- 
scribed as " creepy/' with which his absence 
— under certain circumstances — inspired 
me. And the circumstances were these : 
The Swiss chalet, given to my grandfather 
by Fechter, stood in the shrubbery almost 
hidden among the trees. The shrubbery 
itself was separated from the garden by the 
high road. It was approached by a tunnel 
and two flights of steep steps. It was when 
" Venerables " betook himself to the chalet for 
long mornings —as I know now, to write — 

igiitm* *Vjt J 

<r- \r\**^ 


THE dka\yinl;-kcmjai at gad s Hit 


that my grandfather was a great man- There 
is no shadow in my memory of ever having 
feared him. But all my recollection is 
pervaded with the sense that " Venerables " — 
as I was taught to call him — was not as other 
men. If I were to reproduce pictorblly the 
old Gad's Hill scenes, which start out for me 
so vividly on the dim background of the for- 
gotten, I think I should inevitably surround 
the figure of " Venerables " with a coloured 
light, or a peculiar line of isolation, as the 
only possible means by which my sense of 
the most striking characteristic of those 
scenes could be expressed. /— 


that the haze of the mysterious rose about 
him in my little mind, and all sorts of un- 
defined and dreadful possibilities presented 
themselves to me. I can feel myself, now, 
creeping indoors, when I had been sent to 
play in the garden, because the thought 
of that little house among the trees p with 
its solitary occupant, haunted me. I remem- 
ber the childish reticence which kept me 
silent as to the cause of my reappearance, 
when I had found the consoling society of 
my "aunties," and the touch of shame with 
which I met my grandfather afterwards. 
But perhaps ^j^ r< 4f^pjderest and most 




II. P, MiuKntc Minx Mamie Ihil 

OtiArlw uoILIds. Miee \\ ogartli, 

Fnta a Pkotv. hy 3fa*m rf Cb.» i/hf tfund A'fj-wl. 

personal recollection of my grandfather is in 
the capacity of doctor, Running about 
where I had no business to be while dinner 
was going on, one summer evening, I came 
into collision with a large saucejxin of boiling 
water ; and disastrous consequences ensued to 
one small foot and leg + I suppose my nurse 
was to blame, and a guilty conscience made 
her put me hastily to. bed and conceal the 
accident until dinner was over. I can only just 
remember lying there, feeling very lonely and 
neglected, and crying for my " auntie." But 
I have a very vivid recollection of the subse- 
quent appearance, not only of li auntie/' but 
of " Venerables," and I remember how com- 
forting he was, and what a marvel of wisdom 
and knowledge I thought him, as he made 
the poor leg feel much better. And after 
that I seem to see the pretty room — my 
aunt's— full of people! I conclude that all 
the people staying in the house must have 
come to visit the small sufferer* And out of 
the mist of faces I distinguish, most distinctly, 
that of Mr Marcus Stone — a great friend of 
mine, in those days as he stood at the 
font of the bed contemplating me with the 
deepest sympathy ! The unfortunate little 
leg was a long time getting well — at least I 
suppose it was a long time- -and " Venerable* " 
was the only person in whose treatment of it 

I felt any confidence. 1 remember how 
unhappy I was when his absence for a few 
days left it to the care of the kindest and 
most loving of aunts, 

1 have just used the phrase, "a few days." 
But time has nothing to do with these 
childish memories of mine. How many 
visits I paid to this Gad's Hill of the past I 
do not know. My recollections, for the most 
part, are like instantaneous photographs on 
my memory. Each stands alone ? unconnected 
with the other — except by that singularly im- 
pressive atmosphere which I have tried to 
describe. Sometimes it is winter, in my 
memory ; sometimes it is summer. I can 
remember one arrival with my father and 
mother — I think it must have been a 
Christmas visit, for there was snow* I can 
see the drawing-room as it looked while we 
had tea, on that occasion — that wonderful 
drawing-room, with the fire-light and lamp- 
light reflected everywhere, in the looking- 
glasses of which my grandfather was so fond. 
And I can remember our departure, when I 
disgraced myself by weeping copiously, and 
declining to go home! But tor the most part, 
as I have said, my memories are isolated 
pictures. Here is one which I believe to be 
curiously characteristic of the life of dad's Hill. 




THE CllAl-Er -carl's ]"LU 
Ibm a Photo, bv the Lombm SttnoKQpic Cfrmjwny, 

The scene is the drawing-room, and it is 
full summer time and early evening. The 
great bow window 
is wide open, and 
the beds of scarlet 
geraniums, with 
the waving trees 
of the shrubbery 
beyond, make a 
brilliant back- 
ground. There is 
a tall stand of 
flowery too, in the 
corner between 
the window and 
the door, and 
close to it a group 
of men in even- 
ing dress. There 
are other people in 
the room. Some- 
body is late for 
dinner, and, I 
think, even the 
small observer in 
the muslin pina- 
fore has a notion 
Vol. .iii,-ia 

that " Venerables " does not like 
people to be late. But M Vener- 
ablea n himself seems to be wholly 
unconcerned. He is laughing and 
talking at a great rate, there, by the 
stand of flowers. One of the men 
he is talking to is " Mr* Layard " — 
afterwards Sir Henry layard. I 
see him, now, as distinctly as I 
see my grandfather ; I suppose, 
because he made a great pet of me, 
and I was very fond of him. Another 
is 4t Mr. Chorley '- H. K Chorley, 
the musical critic. He was very 
kind to me, too, but I fear I was 
a little ungrateful for his attentions. 
The others I cannot see; but I 
know they all laughed very much, 
and I wondered whether I should 
have to be very old before I could 
understand what grown-up people 
talked about. 

The picture fades as I call up 
another. The dining-room this time, 
and Christmas morning. The room 
is decorated with holly and ivy, and 
the red berries glisten cheerily. It 
is a long room, with that looking- 
glass panelled door, before men- 
tioned, at one end. The other end 
I cannot see, l^ater on a conserva- 
tor}' was built out there, and sub- 
sequent impressions have blurred the older 
memory, I suppose. Onelon^ wall is covered 



Li\'t -Ifjriti.h. 



with pictures, and against 
it stands a long side- 
board In the wall fac- 
ing this are the windows, 
through which I see 
snow-covered lawns, and 
between them the fire- 
place, with a peculiarly 
high mantel - piece. 
Breakfast things are on 
the table— whether it is 
before or after break fast, 
I do not know ; and in 
front of the fire stands 
" Venerables, 11 looking 
down at me. He and 
I are alone together, and 
he is giving me a Christ- 
mas present, a book 
called the "Child's 
Prize." 1 knew enough, 
by that time, to be aware 
that it was somehow 
highly appropriate that 
his present should be a 
book. Indeed, I suspect 
myself of having be- 
lieved that he had written 
the "Child's Prize" from 
end to end himself, especially for my 
edification ! But his last present to me had 
been a very magnificent doll's house, and 
the small recipient of the "Child's Prize ,J 
experienced, I blush to own, a keen pang of 

My last memory of my grandfather has no 
connection with Gad's Hill, but it is the most 
vivid of all to me, I was taken — I suppose 
that I might be able to say in after years that 
I had heard him — 
to one of my grand- 
father's last readings, 
and the awe and ex- 
citement of the oc- 
casion make my 
heart beat a little 
faster even now as I 
recall it. "The Christ- 
mas Carol " was the 
reading chosen for me 
— p roba bly beca use 
Tiny Tim was con- 
sidered to be within 
my comprehension ; 
but I regret to say 
that the reading itself 
went completely over 
my head, and I only 
recollect being very 


Fr&* d rkuty. bo Mo*** 4tC<t, t Ottt Bond Street. 


Prom a Photo, hit th* London. Si 

frightened and uncom- 

The "Venerables" on 
the platform was quite a 
stranger to me, and his 
proceedings ivere so ec- 
centric as to be most 
alarming. He took no 
notice of me, or of my 
mother; and yet it 
seemed to me that he 
never took his eyes off 
me. And to Tiny Tim 
himself I owe my one 
intensely painful and 
distressing memory uf 
my grandfather, for the 
climax of my discomfort 
was reached at last when 
it dawned upon my 
poor little faculties that 
'* Venerable*" was "cry- 
ing." I never read the 
little scene in the carol 
where Bob Cratchit 
breaks down — the 
moment, I suppose, of 
t h is tragedy - without 
remembering the horror 
and dismay which seized upon me then, 
I knew nothing whatever about acting ; 
any ideas I had about "pretending" were 
associated with Christmas pantomime, and 
did not assimilate at all with the solitary 
appearance of my grandfather on a dull- 
looking platform. To me his distress was 
absolutely real I had never before seen a 
grown-up person cry. 1 had not known that 
they ever did or ever could do so. And that 

u Venerables," of all 
people in the world, 
should cry with all 
those people looking 
on, and that no one 
should dare — as it 
seemed to me — to 
express sympathy, or 
offer consolation, was 
nothing shortof an up- 
heaval of my universe. 
I went to Gad's 
Hill once again, as 
a visitor. But the 
house had lost its 
master then. And 
even a little child 
could feel something 
the blank which 




Ry George Dollar. 

[Itlml ratiom f ram Photos, hy George A r €ivti€s^ Limiied.] 

LL roads in Germany lead to 
Munich, where the beer comes 
from, and all roads in Munich 
lead to the Lowenbrau Keller, 
where we got these beer 
markers. The Keller is a 
noted place, possibly not so celebrated as 
the Hofbtauhaus, or Court Brewery T where 
the special brew of the Bavarian dignitaries 
is doled out in foamy quarts and pints to the 
populace; but in its own way it is unique. 
It is an enormous hall gaily decorated in 
evergreen, closely packed with tables, at 
which natives and visitors sit in loving com- 
munion over their " bock," while the band 
plays. The tunes are good, and the solid 
contentment of the crowd is sweet to look at ; 
but the beer-ma rkers* in the words of the 
poet, "take the bun. " 

To describe them briefly, thev are little 
puppets of knitted wool about four inches high. 
Xow, at the beginning of this article, you will 
find two pictures of beer-mugs, with the beer- 

markers stuck fast upon little meLal knobs at 
the top of the handles. The markers are 
placed there by the beer-drinkers, so that, 
when the mug goes out to be refilled, it will 
come back to its proper owner. Each man, 
therefore, by simply placing his beer-marker 
upon his mug, always gets his own mug back, 
and not somebody else's. The pretty " kell- 
nerin, ,h or waitress, is a very careful woman, 
but as all the mugs in the Lowenbrau Keller 



™ HUK .»„ 

2. — A FANCY FUlKFMICC WITH LAI'KlVt AS II ,| ■. K- \\ A NKI -.K. 

are alike, she might get them mixed up 
in the shuffle if the drinkers did not 
co-operate with her to make mistakes im- 

The photographs reproduced on these 
pages will show the variety of the markers. 
They are nearly all caricatures of the promi- 
nent people of the time, as well as a few local 
figures, unknown to the great world -but 
about them all there is an excellent likeness 

to the, 




4. — KMI'EKtlR KICHOl.AS II. Of Rl ISSlA. 

5, — 015MA«CK. 

But let us to the markers. First and fore- 
most stands the Kaiser (3). Note his darting 
eye and his majestic air A born ruler, with 
his manly breast covered with cmhlerm — 
made or tin. His brown-yarn mustaches 
sweep across his face as if they wanted to 
kiss his ears, while a faint tinge of red paint 
gives colour to his fat cheeks. The little 
figure is carefully made, and the Kaiser 
grasps his sword as if he were showing his 
troops the proper way to fight. 

Beside the Kaiser, where the great 
difference between the Teuton and Slavish 
features may be seen, we place the 
Emperor of Russia 
(4). Now, very few 
people will believe 
us when we say 
that this is the 
Czar, but it really 
is. The likeness, 
however, is very 
poor. The Czar 
looks aged and 
distressed, Possi- 
bly, the knitter 
made him so on 
purpose, as a sly 
dig at the Czar's 
late hobnobbing 
with la htlle 

We place Bis- 
marck next (5), 
After him comes 

Wiudthorst (6), the German statesman who 
died in 1S91, and at his left Eugene 
Richter (7), the Radical leader of the 
Reichstag, or German House of Commons, 
When Bismarck was the first figure in Germany, 
his two greatest political enemies were Wind- 
thorst and Richter. If Bismarck wanted a canal 
dug or an army raised, his opponents were 
sure to say they weren't needed, and at last 
the fight got so hot, that if Bismarck had 
asserted that the Atlantic Ocean was filled 
with water, the others would have said it was 
made of mud. Hence, we mention these 
notabilities together Note Bismarck's three 

hairs. They are 
all he has in the 
world, and the 
woman who knit 
the M Iron Chan- 
cellor " did not 
forget a single one. 
Mark also Rich- 
ter's portfolio 
under his right 
arm, and his gold 
watch-chain. And 
before passing to 
Ferdinand, note 
W i n d t h o r s t J s 
chubby face and 
expansive mouth. 

This (8) is Fer- 
dinand of Bulgaria, 
whose little son, 
Prince Boris, lately 




stirred up a lot 
of excitement 
for his size, hy 
being admitted 
to the orthodox 
faith. In all 
the caricatures 
of Ferdinand, 
you find him 
adorned with an 
enormous nose, 
and in this beer- 
marker the pro- 
hoscis stands 
prominently out, 
There is no- 
thing more to 
say about Fer~ 
din and, except 
that his uniform 
is made out of 
blue wool In- 
deed, all the 
beer - markers 
representing German military men are in 
blue. The editors and statesmen are in inky 

Here (9) is an editor, with wise and 
knowing eyes, and a pen behind his ear. 
Doubtless Dr, Sigl is unknown in 
England, but in Munich, where he edits 
the Catholic paper called the Fatherland^ 
he is a noted public character Sigl is a 
great opponent of progressive or Radical 
movements, and advocates the separation 


hkkk Aiu.wA.htnv 

of Bavaria from 
the German Em- 
pire, His mus- 
tache shows true 
editorial training. 
Herr A hi war dt, 
the pompous and 
well- fed -looking 
individual who 
bears down upon 
us in {10}, is a 
pugnacious anti- 
Semite who has 
figured promi- 
nently in the 
Reichstag. Once 
in a while he gets 
thrown into gaol 
on account of the 
nasty way he says 
things, and his 
popularity is as 
considerable as a mustard-seed. Many of 
his accusations against the Semites have been 
proved unfounded, and this has not added 
to his reputation. But he makes a jolly 
handsome beer- marker. 

Our next reproduction shows Capri vi (11), 

We also see him 
upon the fancy 
mug (2) on the 
first page of this 
article. Caprivi 
succeeded Bis- 
marck as Chan- 
cellor, but did 
not stay in power 
long* There was 
a dead set against 
his policy from 
the beginning, 
but during his 
short term of 
office he became 
noted throughout 
the Empire. This 
beer - marker is 
not half so effec- 
tive as that of 
Lieutenant von 
Briisewitz (12), who has lately set the tongue 
of Germany agog by killing a civilian in a 
duel. Briisewitz is more or less of a 
military bully, and his opponent is said to 
have been guilty of no offence, Hence 
the stir. The people rose against him and 
pleaded for his punishment, but, at the time 
of writing, little has been done. With such 
a reputatQrijgitta lire biit natural that he 


II. — CAl'KtY 




should be represented in a defiant attitude* 
and that his mustache should have an angry 

Like Dr. Windthorst, the Shah (13) is 
represented with gold spectacles. It is, how- 
ever, not the present Shah, but the late one 
— he who was once the pet of the English 
ladies. Most of them will quirkly recognise 
him here as a friend, Emm Pasha {14) was 

brilliant figure 
(15) was also 
frequently seen 
on the beer- 
mugs, in the 
time of his 
leadership. His 
red trousers, 
blue coat, and 
beautiful white 
plume made a 
very gay appear- 

Here let me 
add that the 
" beer - marker " 
custom has 
been known to 
Munich for 
many years, and 
that it has been 
adopted in 

nearly all of the German cities and towns. 
In the Lowenbrau Keller the markers are 
sold for fifty pfennige, or sixpence, each, by 
an old woman who goes round amongst the 
beer-drinkers with a basket. She is a well- 
known character in Munich, and knits the 
figures herself. 

At the present time, one of the most cari- 

14. — ESUN 1'ASHA. 



a popular beer-marker in the days when he 
was fighting in the Soudan, and trying to 
bring glory to the German arms, Boulanger's 

catured men in Germany is Father Kneipp 
(16), the noted preacher of the M Kneipp 


unMBN 1 






y* rjiKR kneu-}-. 

troubles may 
be cured if 
people will sys- 
tematically pro- 
menade with 
bare feet in the 
early morning 
dew. The 
beer - marker 
shows a philan- 
thropic face 
and a watering- 
pot, from which 
latter the good 
"Pfarrer" ob- 
tains artificial 

The list of 
great men 
would be in- 
complete if we 
did not have 
Prince Luit- 

pold, the ruler of Bavaria, amongst them. 

For the Bavarians are proud of their land, 

and look upon their Sovereign as equal to 

the Kaiser any day, Well, here is Luitpold 

(17), but he wears a slightly uncomfortable 

look, as if he felt himself a makeshift for 

the real ruler, Otto, who is said to be 


The Munich people are particularly fond 

of the little figures which represent characters 

of local reputation, Herr Tiefenbach (18) is 

one of these* He 

is a local painter 

who attracts 

great attention 

on account of 

his curious attire. 

He has long, 

flowing hair, 

wears large spec- 
tacles, a long 

ulster, and con- 
stantly carries an 

umbrella* When 

he walks down a 

Munich street he 

is always followed 

by a crowd. Our 

re pr odu ction 

gives an excellent 

idea of this most 

curious mortal, 

whose reputation 

in Munich art is 

of the highest. 

«»•_ -i, iT.-LUTfOMJ, REGENT OF 

I here still bavakuu 


remain four beer-markers— the best of the 
lot. Look at this pretty iC fcellnerin," with 
her gay bodice and her two beer-mugs (ig). 
She is a familiar figure to the Germans j 
but, with all her beauty, she is inferior to 
our own national institution — the British 
barmaid. Here, also (20), is "Wurzl," the 
old vegetable woman, with a giddy carrot 
in her right hand, and a knobby nose that 
almost touches her chin. She is not a thing 
of beauty, and wears the commonest of 
clothes, but ll Wurzl's w heart is always in 
the right place. We also get a view of 
"Wurael Sepp t * 
who, next to the 
Kaiser and Bis- 
marck, is the 
best-known man 
in Germany. He 
is a queer old 
fellow, a hermit, 
in short, who 
runs an illicit 
still among the 
mountains, and 
who may fre- 
quently be seen 
in this most pic- 
turesque costume 
{21). A short 
time ago he was 
seen at the Ber- 
lin Exhibition. 
Lastly comes a 
little beer-marker 
in a long robe 
and hood, with 
a radish ©"Wal^/SEE? 





hand and a beer- 
mug in the other 
(22). We have 
already seen him 
on the top of the 
Lowenbrau mug 
(i) t He is called 
the " Miinchener 
Kind!," or " Mu- 
nich child" By 
some mysterious 
chain of events, 
in the olden time 
the arms of 
Munich became a 
little monk, or 
" Monchen," from 
which we get the 
German w Mun- 
rhen," or Munich. 
Now, the little 
monk always 
20. "WUH11-" held a Bible in 

one of his hands, 
and raised the other in exhortation. But 
in the Lowenbrau Keller, we find him 
with the radish and the beer-mug. The 
radish, it may be 
added, is an indis- 
pensable accom- 
paniment to a mug 
of beer* It is cut 
lengthwise in long, 
thin strips* It is 
then opened like a 
book, and each leaf 
is sprinkled with 
salt and then closed 
again. In a few 


minutes it is taken up in the fist and well 
squeezed, when the water runs out of it in 
streams, like the juice of a lemon, the flesh 

becomes soft and 
flabby, and the 
radish is ready to 
be eaten. It lies 
on the table beside 
the drinkers, and 
with it the bock 
becomes nectar. 
So much for the 
radish in the 
hand of the little 

3 1,— WUHZ£L SEITt 


Original from 

Told to the World. 

By Mrs. Egerton Eastwick (Plevdell North), 

ROOM so poor that it could 
hardly be poorer, and so bare, 
that but for one presence it 
would have been apparently 
empty. In the middle of the 
floor, where a faint ray of 
sunlight struggling through the single window 
rested upon it, stood a square object, 
which seen in its native simplicity would 
have proved to be a deal box reversed. 
On the top of the box was a pillow, 
and the whole was covered by a piece 
of coarse clean white calico, the remains 
of a sheet 

But between the pillow and the sheet a 
tiny form was outlined, limbs that should have 
been rounded, but were spare and thin and 
angular, yet with hardly bone enough to define 
the angles, so 
small and limp 
was the whole 
figure. The sheet 
was turned back 
from a baby face, 
and the pale sun- 
light kissed a 
head covered 
with curls soft as 
silk, and still 
holding in their 
dead beauty the 
living sheen of 
gold The fea- 
tures were small, 
delicate, and 
regular, waxen in 
i mperturbable 
stillness, pathetic 
in the hush of 
sorrow for ever- 

The only 
touches of colour 
were in the dark- 
ness of the brows, 
strongly pencilled 
for such a baby 
face, and in the 
curle'd lashes ; 


beneath these a 
dim shadow was visible ; a blur, a suggestion 
of eyes that had once been blue and full of 
life, over which the white lids were not com- 
pletely closed. The last wail of t he child had 
been heard ; in a single year its spirit had 

Vol. xiii.— 11* 

touched the four great mysteries — life and 
sorrow and love and death. So far as 
humanity was concerned, at was quite alone. 
Presently the door opened with a slow, 
grating creak, and a woman entered. A red- 
faced, frouzy-looking person, short-skirted, 
with a big apron tied across her stoutness, 
a shawl pinned over her bosom, a hat, 
decorated with a few limp feathers and 
a damaged red rose, upon her head 
In her hand, however, she carried a bunch 
of fresh lilies and some sprays of myrtle. 
She drew near the box and stood looking 
down upon the dead child, Tears rose to eyes 
which it must be owned were sometimes dim 
with heavy potations, and raining down the 
cheeks had to be wiped away with a frouzy 
rag. She did not attempt to kiss the child 

"Bless its little 
'eart, it's better 
off," she mut- 
tered ; then with 
careful hand she 
distributed the 
flowers over the 
white sheet ; one 
lily she hid near 
the face. 

Then with slow 
and heavy step 
she departed, 
closing the door 
again and creak- 
ing down the 
stairs. She was 
a flower woman 
who lived in the 
room below T and 
she might have 
sold the bunch 
of lilies and 
myrtle for nine- 

Once more 
stillness and 
death and sun- 
shine filled the 
room ; the only 
visible life was 
in the flowers ; 
thank God there were no flies; it was 
still early in the spring and cold. At 
length, when nearly an hour had passed, 
the door creaked open again, but more softly 
than before, ™d a young woman entered. It 




was easy to recognise in her the mother of 
the child. She could hardly be more than 
twenty years of age ; the features were regular 
and delicate, the face pale, the eyes large and 
pathetic; the mouth had taken curves of 
settled anguish. She caught sight of the 
lilies upon the sheet, and the sudden tears 
rushed to the large grey eyes, suffusing 
them, hanging on to the black lashes, flowing 
in a resistless torrent down the thin, pallid 
cheeks. She was still young enough to cry. 
She knelt beside the box and pressed one 
of the little waxen hands to the thin bosom 
against which it had been used to nestle. 

"My little— little baby— oh, my heart, I 
can't— I can't." 

It was ttye thought of the coffin that came 
into her heart ; she had just been to see what 
it would cost 

A week later and Hymar Meadows sat 
alone in her room upon the box which had 
once been a child's cradle, shivering and 
staring at the bare walls. The sun still 
shone, but a bitter east wind was blowing, 
and she would have had no breakfast had 
not the flower woman brought her a bit of 
bread and a cup of tea before going out 
Hymar's literally last penny had gone on the 
baby's funeral. She had thought at the time 
that she would be rather glad than otherwise 
to starve, if she could only die. But she 
could not die, and the pangs of cold and 
hunger stirred a craving for life in her young 
and still healthy frame. She must live, and 
she must do something for a living; the 
question was, what could she do ? 

To start as a flower girl meant a certain 
amount of capital, and she had absolutely 
nothing. As she sat upon her box, she 
indulged in some retrospect. She saw the 
room as it had been a year ago, before her 
husband had fallen ill. He had been 
employed as scene painter in a lesser theatre; 
that is, it had been his duty to restore and 
alter the stock scenes as occasion demanded, 
and he had earned fair wages. 

The little room had then been furnished 
quite decently, and they had also rented an 
adjoining one as bedroom. Her fancy con- 
jured up the past comfort, the familiar 
belongings ; the centre table with its crimson 
cloth, the wooden chairs, the plants in the 
window, the rough chalk sketches (her 
husband's designs) upon the walls ; the 
materials for his work strewn around, the 
few books, his favourites, upon the rough 
wooden shelves which he had put together, 
and which she had deftly covered with cre- 


tonne. Then had come the baby and her 
illness, and before she was fully recovered, 
Tom had taken that cold in the draughty 
theatre, which settled upon his lungs. He 
had died just before Christmas, after finish- 
ing the work for the pantomime; he had 
never gone to the theatre again. 

The baby had always been weakly, and on 
the 20th of March, a week yesterday, she 
had been left quite alone. 
* How she had subsisted for the last few 
months she hardly knew. She had done a 
day's work now and then, but it was always 
difficult to leave the baby. Yet while it 
lived she had had hope and love ; she had 
always dreamed of the summer, and of find- 
ing some work to do which rteed not separate 
them. But all that was over ; everything 
was over but this dull ache, and the physical 
craving which made itself felt through her 

She was already several weeks behind with 
the rent of her room : it was not likely that 
the landlord would have much further 
patience. What was she to do ? 

She rose at length, and dragged herself to 
the cupboard. It contained some cracked 
china and an old bag of coloured chalks, 
which lay upon the floor. Her husband's 
paints she had sold, and the bits of canvas 
and the brushes ; but these had been worth- 
less. She took them out now and looked at 
them ; she spread them out upon the floor ; 
the sunlight touched them and wove them 
into wonderful patches of colour. 

The memory of one of the scenes her 
husband had sketched came back to her 
quite clearly : a mountain and a lake ; a boat 
on the lake under the hill, the sail a mere 
spot of bright light sending reflections across 
the water ; a brown-stemmed tree to the left 
on the near bank, the sun touching the edges 
of the bark into a bright yellow. 

She began instinctively to trace out her 
thoughts upon the ground. She had helped 
Tom sometimes, and he had said that her 
touch was light and accurate, to be depended 
upon for the delicate touches. She drew on 
now until the whole scene came out on the 
bare floor, a conventional scene enough, but 
fairly well drawn. She had a natural facility, 
and hand, eye, and imagination had all been 
educated during the five years that she had 
been Tom Meadows's wife. 

An idea sprang into her mind which 
brought a faint glow to her cheek. She had 
seen the men drawing on the pavements, had 
wondered over them, at their sickly faces, and 
their strange productions. To her there. 




had seemed always a certain pathos in the 
attempt to bring the vision, the memory of 
blue skies and trees and meadows into the 
crowded, dusty thoroughfares ; to be rubbed 
into a meaningless blur when the day was 
done, or washed out by 
the first shower ; to be 
trodden out by the ever- 
thronging, hurrying feet 
Her work on the floor 
was equal to, if not better 
than, much she had seen 
in the streets of the 
town ; surely there must 
be something to be 
gained by such a trade, 
or the men would not 
persevere in it Why 
should not she try? The 
work in itself was a 
pleasure to her; she 
found a curious, eager 
satisfaction in the blend- 
ing of the colours, in 
the endeavour to express 
that which her mind saw. 
She replaced the chalks 
in the bag, and rose to 
her feet ; she was very 
weak, but she would feel 
better outside in the 
sunshine ; she would 
seek a sheltered corner, 
and, perhaps, she might 
gain a few pence for 
bread and coffee at 

She put on her shabby 
black hat with the piece 
of crape on it given by 
a neighbour, and wrap- 
ped herself in her old 
shawl ; then she took the bag of chalks in 
one hand and her box in the other, and 
started upon her new venture. 

She found a sheltered pavement by 
side of a busy thoroughfare, which yet 
not in 

She shrank before the curious glances of 
the passers-by, and trembled when the sturdy 
figure of a policeman came in view. He 
gave her a quick, searching look, asked a 
few questions, a woman on this lay being new 


the heart of the city. The opposite 
was overhung by the trees of an old 
garden, at a little distance away, for the canal 
had been tunnelled beneath the road; the 
shadows in the water and the trees decided 
her choice ; she thought the surroundings 
would be of use to her. She felt very nervous 
and shy as she sat down on her box and 
opened her bag of chalks* Her life had 
been a retired one for the last six years, and 
she felt as though she must be doing some- 
thing dangerous and wrong. 

by Google 


to his experience, and passed on. Soon she 
was down on her knees and at her work ; it 
possessed a real fascination for her, and she 
bordered the picture with scrolls and flourishes. 
Someone in passing dropped a flower ; she 
picked it up and tried to copy that. In her 
mind she saw no end to the fantastic designs 
she might try to introduce, 
, By half-past one she had earned her bread 
and coffee. In the afternoon, feeling invigor- 
ated and refreshed, she thought she would 
try her hand at a second landscape. To 
arrive at this she changed the position of the 
tree and the banks, and tried to imitate the 
cun*es and bends of the branches on the 
opposite side of the way 

At dusk, when she gathered up her chalks 


8 4 


and prepared to leave her post for the night, 
she had taken a shilling in coppers, two 
sixpences, and a threepenny-piece. At any 
rate, she need not starve at present, but the 
return to her desolate room was very bitter. 
She threw herself upon the bare floor and 
sobbed ; these tears were her baptism into 
a new phase of sorrow : the ever-growing 
daily realization of her loss. 

During the spring and summer she 
prospered fairly well. The slight novelty of 
a woman drawing on the paving stones, the 
sweetness of a face which yet had a look of 
untamed wildness, a certain delicacy and taste 
in her work, interested those who passed ; 
some flung coppers at her carelessly, others 
offered them with kindly words, some merely 

She contrived to five, to gather back a few 
of her more necessary belongings ; her room 
looked less dreary and empty, but the barren 
void in her heart nothing could fill ; the pain 
was there always, gnawing at her untutored 
soul, expressing itself in the wild, tortured 
look of her eyes. 

On Sundays she tramped out to the 
cemetery. With the autumn, times grew 
harder ; wet days were more frequent, fog 
and mists set in early that year ; Hymar went 
out when she could, but she coughed and 
shivered as she sat on her box, and there 
were so few passengers. Some other work 
for the winter must be found, but the finding 
would be no easy matter. Who would 
employ the street artist ? Day by day she 
grew paler and more sad. 

One afternoon she crept out as a faint 
yellow sunshine took the place of the drizzling 
rain which had been falling all the morning. 
The whole world looked wet and dripping. 
She drew two of her pictures, but her hand 
failed somewhat in its cunning ; the pave- 
ment was still wet; the few persons who 
ventured to walk through the mud hurried by 
without noticing her ; the afternoon went on, 
and she had taken nothing; she had no 
money at home. 

She sat still, and for a moment closed her 
eyes, her head was aching wearily. Then, as 
often happened, she began to see pictures 
in the darkness. To-day, the visions which 
sometimes cheered her, making her forget the 
present in the past, failed to come ; and one, 
never in truth very far absent from her mind, 
repeated itself obstinately. She saw her 
room as it had been when she returned after 
ordering her child's coffin, nothing else. In 
truth, she was weak, chilled, and feverish ; 
her brain refused to obey instinct or will or 


the influences of the outer world ; when she 
opened her eyes she still saw only the white 
coverlet, the outlined form beneath, the head 
with its sunny curls, the closed eyes, the 
lilies ; the scent of these was surely in her 

She leaned her head upon her hand, lost 
to all outward sensations ; upon the pave- 
ment at her feet she still saw the brain 
picture. Suddenly she rose to her feet with 
a sort of cry, and seized her chalks. The 
wall behind her was flat and smooth : she 
began to draw upon that. How she did it 
she never afterwards knew ; she was in an 
abnormal condition, and her fingers pro- 
duced faithfully the image of her brain. 

With swift strokes she defined the figure 
beneath the folds of the white sheet, the 
head, the sleeping face, which yet, unmistak- 
ably, would never waken into life. She had 
drawn a dead baby, her own. Her fingers 
had almost involuntarily disclosed to the 
world the sorrow which was eating into her 
heart ; it was there, upon the public wall of 
the common thoroughfare in all its bareness. 
Only when the last stroke was drawn, she 
reafoed what she Jhad done. She drew a 
long, sobbing breath. A little crowd had 
gathered round; it seemed impossible that 
anyone should pass that picture, drawn by 
the mother's hand, all wrong doubtless as 
regarded the laws of anatomy and perspective, 
but instinct with the truth of genius and 
love that penetrated through ignorance and 
dominated it 

Hymar' had gone back to her seat and 
covered her face. She heard the chink of 
coppers upon the pavement, but she could 
not put out her hand to touch them. It was 
impossible to take money so earned She 
kept her face buried in her hands ; she only 
longed intensely that everyone would pass on 
and leave her. Her child had died from 
want; want of the warmth and nourishment 
which other women could give their children ; 
the world had not helped her then — now she 
flung her story with all its dumb reproach in 
the face of the world, and hid her own. 

The little crowd passed on ; she heard the 
retreating footsteps, a voice which said, 
" Poor thing — she is ill — perhaps we ought 
to tell a policeman." 

She was just gaining courage to lift her 
head and make an effort to wipe out that 
terrible witness, when the sound of other 
footsteps approaching made her pause and 
shiver. The tread was that of a man, firm 
and heavy ; perhaps the policeman. The 
feet stopped close beside her, and for a 



while there was dead silence; then a voice 

full of sympathetic vibrations said, very 

kindly :— 

" How did you do it? What does it mean?" 
She looked up, to see a tall man in an 

ulster, a soft felt hat set upon a quantity of 

reddish-brown hair. Glancing at her T he 

said, in the same tone :■ — 
" What put it into your 

bead ? The drawing 


*' Clever I ft she said, with a sort of fierce 
anguish— 16 clever ! " And she made a dash 
at the picture with the chalk-stained rag she 
carried in her bag. 

He caught and stayed her arm. 

**Not yet," he said, with imperturbable 
gentleness, "Tell me nil about it first — I 
am an artist myself." 

Tone and manner were so genuinely 
friendly that she felt reassured, 

u I don't know how I came to do it/' she 
half sobbed "It is my own little baby — 
and it died, I think, because it was starved — 
and now the winter is coming on maybe 111 
starve too — and if I could die I wouldn't 
mind — but to live- 

by Google 

In a few minutes he had drawn from her 
the short, pitiful story of her life. He did 
not offer her much sympathy, seeing that in 
her present state of weakness it would hardly 
be the wisest treatment. 

As she concluded he said, cheerfully r — ■ 
u Well, I think we may rub this out now ; 
it is growing dusk, and you had 
better go home." 

He watched her smear over 
the picture, and noticed that, as 
she gathered her chalks together, 
she pushed the pennies on the 
pavement aside with her foot 
He understood the action, and 
felt that it would be useless to 
offer her money without further 
pretext; his fingers relinquished 
the coin they had been seeking, 
and he took a card from his 
pocket-book and handed it to 

li You will find my name and 
address there/' he said. * l If you 
will call to-morrow morning, 
about eleven o'clock, I think I 
can find you employment if you 
care to take it- In fact, your 
head is just what I have been 
looking for, for one of my pic- 
tures. 1 have left the face blank 
for want of a suitable modcL 
In the meantime, let me pay 
you for a sitting beforehand* 
then you will feel bound to 
come, you know," 5 

He dexterously slipped 

some silver into her bag, 

said a pleasant good-night, 

and strode away before she 

had time to accept or refuse 

his proposal She stood for 

a moment looking after the 

tall, retreating figure, then carried the card 

to a lamp which had just been lit, and 

read :< — 


The While Studio, 

Grove Place. 

She knew the place well, it was not more 
than half a mile distant. 

Six weeks had passed since Hymar Mea- 
dows, the street artist, had stood beneath the 
gas Lamp reading Geoffrey Burroughs^ card, 
and the aspect of her life had during that 
time completely changed. She had kept her 
appointment for the following morning, and 
the sittings which had then begun had 
Original from 




terminated in permanent employment of a 
different nature. 

The artist's housekeeper, who was elderly, 
and growing slightly infirm, had taken a fancy 
to the gentle-mannered young woman with 
the sorrowful eyes, whose ways differed so 
materially from the generality of professional 
models, Mrs. Johnson rather shook her 
head at the idea of Hymar's seeking further 
engagements among the painting fraternity, 
and after a few cautious inquiries suggested 
that she should take the place of household 
assistant in the modest establishment of 
Grove Place. 

Geoffrey Burroughs did not live altogether 
at the little two-storied house with the big 
studio attached. When in town he painted 
there for many hours a day, and if engaged 
upon some work of special importance, 
occupied the bedroom which was always 
kept in readiness. But his home was con- 
sidered to be the big house in Queen's Gate, 
inhabited by his mother and sisters. 

During his frequent absences, the studio 
was left to the care of Mrs. Johnson and her 
husband, Sandy, who was employed chiefly 
in the garden, and hitherto the services of 
the couple had been sufficient. But this 
winter Mrs. Johnson's health was found to be 
failing. Geoffrey intended to pass the next 
few months chiefly at the studio with a view 
to finishing a large picture for the spring 
exhibits, and had no mind to change his old 
servants. Help must be found, but Mrs. 
Johnson had a horror alike of girls and char- 
women. Hymar seemed to present a way 
out of the difficulty. 

She accepted the proposal gratefully. The 
whole atmosphere of the house was congenial; 
the studio seemed to her a palace of art and 
wonder ; the kindly ways of the housekeeper 
and old Sandy gave her a sense of home and 
rest; Geoffrey Burroughs she regarded as 
her saviour from the horrors of starvation 
and despair. 

She fulfilled her ordinary duties with careful 
exactitude, but the painter, her master, had 
no mind to forget that artistic capacity which 
it pleased him to think he had discovered. 
He advised her to cultivate her talent, and 
to employ her leisure hours in copying the 
studies he lent her. The studio was to be 
her charge, and he further told her that, 
during his absence, she might draw there 
from studies he would arrange; he himself 
would afterwards overlook her efforts and 
give them occasional direction. 

The winter months sped quickly. The 
little household, seldom varying its peaceful 

Digitized by Google 

routine, lived a life with which the world 
interfered but little. The painter was 
absorbed in his work; Hymar, between her 
household duties, her efforts to carry out her 
master's instructions, and attendance upon 
Mrs. Johnson, whose rheumatism / often 
rendered her almost helpless, found little 
time for thinking. Her memories were not 
dead, only the hand of a busy present had 
been laid upon them, dulling the sharpness 
of their pain. 

In February Burroughs went to Paris for a 
fortnight. One afternoon during his absence 
Hymar sat in the studio, doing her best to 
draw faithfully an old vase which he had told 
her to copy before his return. The sun was 
shining with the soft prophetic warmth which 
sometimes makes the second month of the 
year a month of peculiar charm. In the 
garden, where Sandy was at work as usual, 
the birds were trying to remember the notes 
of their old songs, or practising new ones; 
and a few spring flowers were showing their 
pale faces above the brown mould. 

Hymar sat drawing diligently. Burroughs 
was expected on the morrow. Presently the 
door from the road into the garden opened, 
and two visitors entered : ladies ; they came 
straight towards the studio instead of going 
to the house, and threw open the door, 
laughing gaily. Hymar rose, surprised ; the 
strangers paused, and stared, she thought 
rather strangely. The taller of the two 
advanced, surveying critically, yet with a 
sort of far-away glance, the figure in the 
neat black dress, covered by the linen apron 
with bib and sleeves. 

Hymar had changed greatly during the 
past five months, her cheeks had rounded 
and taken a faint tinge of colour — but her 
face had lost none of its delicacy ; the look 
of close acquaintance with some profound 
sorrow still lingered in the large eyes which 
were her most remarkable feature, but the 
wildness had disappeared ; she was altogether 
softened and improved; the influences of 
her life had acted upon her best capacities. 

" May I ask if Mr. Burroughs has re- 
turned ? " inquired the visitor. " I did not 
know he took pupils, but I conclude " 

Hymar blushed. For the first time she 
realized that her position was a difficult one 
to explain. " Mr. Burroughs has delayed 
his journey ; he is not expected until to- 
morrow. I am not a pupil exactly, that is — 

I am " She paused before entering into 

particulars, not being sure of the rights of 
the intruders. The younger lady, who had 
not come forward, was gazing at a statue. 





"/ am Miss Burroughs — Mr. Burroughs's 
sister," said she who stood in front of Hymar. 
* f I thought my brother had arrived, Perhaps 
I had better see Mrs. Johnson," 

She spoke coldly, and with considerable 

" I — I am afraid you can't, 1 ' said Hymar, 
very humbly. " Mrs, Johnson is ill in bed— 
I am here to help her, and Mr. Burroughs 
gives me leave to draw in the studio when 
my other work is done. If I can take any 
message " 

Miss Burroughs turned away haughtily. 

" Thank you — I will leave a note for my 
brother, I shall find writing materials, I 
have no doubt" 

Something in the tone caused Hymar to 
feel abashed; she hurriedly gathered her 
drawing materials together, and left the 
room. When the door had closed behind her 
the girl who had been staring at the statue 
turned round. She was undeniably hand- 
some, fair, golden-haired, and perfectly 

by Google 

dressed in a suit of brown 
cloth that harmonized with 
the tints of her hair and 
darker brows ; it was em- 
broidered with silks in the 
same shades, and trimmed 
with sable. But the face, 
which was meant to have the 
delicacy of a pale tea rose, 
looked hard, and almost fierce. 
" It seems that your brother 
allows strange liberties to his 
servant, and gives her 
truer information as to 
His movements than he 
vouchsafes to me, Lotta," 
she said, 

"Oh, Hilda — don't 
m i s j udge Geo ff. H e i s 
the most recklessly good- 
natured fellow in exist- 
ence. The girl has im- 
posed upon his easy 
temper, or else he knows 
nothing of her im- 
pertinence—you saw 
how confused she 
was. As for his 
change of plans, 
probably he tele- 
graphed to Mrs, 
Johnson on account 
of his dinner. Here 
are pen and ink— I 
shall give him a 
good scolding. 
Fancy his dismay when he finds we have 
been here," 

Miss Burroughs rattled on, but the face of 
her companion remained clouded; she made 
no reply, and moved restlessly about the 
room with a dissatisfied air while the note 
was being written. 

Hilda Mayne had been engaged to Geoffrey 
Burroughs for nearly two years. They had 
met while on a sketching tour, and he had 
fallen a victim to her roseleaf beauty in its 
russet setting, backed by the glory of an 
unusually perfect summer. Mr. Mayne, her 
father, was the squire of the village where 
Burroughs was staying, and he had brought 
introductions from mutual friends in town. 
She had come to Queen's Gate the previous 
day on a visit to her future mother~in-law T 
Geoff's return being expected. That he 
should have elected to go straight to the 
studio, pleading the possible lateness of his 
arrival, had been rather a sore point \ and 
his non-appearance in Kensington during the 




morning had elicited the present visit The 
possibility of a marriage in the spring had 
been spoken of, and there was much to 
consider. Under the circumstances, there 
was some excuse for petulance. 

Hilda was not accustomed to be dis- 
appointed or neglected, and she seemed 
inclined to vent her displeasure upon her 
lover's belongings : she turned over his 
pictures and sketches with no very gentle 
hand, and presently brought down a pile of 
canvases heaped one upon another in a 
recess, across which a curtain had been 

She gave a little cry of impatience, and 
began to replace the pictures, glancing at 
each one during the process, and at the dust 
on her gloves. As she raised one which had 
been near the bottom of the pile, however, 
she suddenly became perfectly tranquil, and 
stood staring at it with an air of incredulous 
surprise which deepened into disgust. For 
some minutes no sound was to be heard in 
the room but the scratching of Lotta's pen. 

At length Hilda said, " Lottie, come here." 

The scratching ceased instantly. Some- 
thing in the voice caused Miss Burroughs at 
once to look round ; then, having caught a 
glimpse of Hilda's face, she rose and hurried 
to her side. The subject of the sketch which 
Miss Mayne was holding was the same as that 
which Hymar in her despair had drawn upon 
the wall, but Geoffrey had made one or two 
additions. The idea expressed by Hymar*s 
effort had been deeply imprinted upon his 
brain, and he had striven to reproduce and 
extend it — but the result had been thrust 
aside as a crude failure. 

The bareness of the room of which Hymar 
had told him was hinted at,, and he had 
depicted truly the gleam of yellow, light that 
streamed through the window touching. the 
head of the dead child. To the face he had 
imparted a strong likeness to the mother. 
For he had brought Hymar into the pictur^ — 
he had drawn her kneeling beside the dead 
child, her face lifted and her eyes fixed upon 
those which would never again meet them 
with an answering look. Then a fancy had 
seized him, and in the background he had 
introduced a shadowy figure, which bore an 
unmistakable likeness to himself. 

To his own idea he had been a mere 
onlooker, vague and unrecognised, led by 
the accident of circumstance into participa- 
tion in a scene which he felt was the result 
of the neglect and indifference of the society 
of which he formed a unit. It was in this 
way that Hymar's story had affected him, 

Digitized by CiOOgiC 

and his face wore an expression that might 
have been grief, remorse, or pity ; or a blend- 
ing of all three. Miss Burroughs glanced 
curiously over her friend's shoulder, then 
seizing one corner of the canvas drew it 
eagerly nearer to herself, and the two women 
gazed at the scene portrayed, with hideous 
misconception of its meaning. 

" It is too horrible, Hilda ; put it down — 
let us hide it again." Lotta Burroughs spoke 
with bated breath, and they pushed the 
canvases back into the recess, piling them 
carefully. Then they sat down and looked 
at one another. 

" It seems horribly plain " said Lotta, con- 
fusedly — " but, still, Hilda, we don't know. 
You see what a bold, impertinent creature 
she is, taking possession of his studio." 

11 She has every right," said Hilda, coldly. 
" At least, I, at any rate, shall not dispute her 
claim — she may be bad, but Geoffrey is 
worse, for he has deceived me — but I con- 
gratulate myself on having discovered the 
truth — that I am sufficiently enlightened to 
understand the meaning of this dreadful 
story which he has not feared to put on 
canvas. Had I been brought up, or rather 
allowed myself to remain, in a state of 
pristine innocence, it might have escaped 

Lotta Burroughs, who saw an altogether 
desirable match lost to the family, was 
inclined to wish, in spite of her well-known 
advocacy of the rights of her sex, that in 
this case the pristine innocence had been left 

" I think we had better go," she said, in 
an absent, hopeless sort of way. Hilda rose 
at once, but Lotta first went to the writing- 
table and tore her letter to her brother into 
fragments, which she thrust into her pocket. 
She was feeling desperately angry with every- 
one concerned, but chiefly with poor Hymar. 
When she reached the garden gate, she 

" I think, really, Hilda, I must go back ; 
I feel it my duty to say a few words to that 
unfortunate creature. It is easy to under- 
stand why Geoff has been so little at home 
this winter — such wickedness cannot be 
allowed to go on ; mamma would break her 
heart. I could get the girl into a home, you 
know." Hilda Mayne offered no objection, 
and Miss Burroughs turned back. 

Ten minutes later, when she rejoined her 
friend, her face wore a scared and rather 
puzzled expression. 

" Well ? " said Hilda, tentatively. # 

" I never before saw quite a ^similar case, 





Hilda— the girl seemed positively unable to 
understand me when I spoke of the shame 
of her position. As I entered the studio she 
came hack by the house door, and I went 
straight to the point at once. Her great eyes 
stared at me till I lost patience. ( It is no 
use attempting to deny the truth,' I said ; 
* unfortunately, my brother himself, of whom 
1 am heartily ashamed, has immortalized the 

"Then I went to the recess and took out 
the picture. Instead of being conscience- 
stricken, to my surprise she went down on her 
knees before it. She cried, 'Oh, my little 
baby — my darling/ and seized the thing from 
my hands and kissed it and seemed to forget 
I was there -her eyes looked hungry. ' Have 
I been forgetting you, sweet — taking my 
comfortable ease ? ' she went on, 'and you 
lying out there under the cold earth. How 
could he make it so like you, how could he 
remember ? ' 

" I felt the tears come to my eyes, Hilda, 
I did, indeed, shocking and sinful as it all 

was. So I said, ' If you want 
to see your baby again, you 
poor woman, you will change 
your present mode of life ; 
already my brother's future 
happiness is ruined. That 
lady you saw here with me 
was to have been his wife, 
now I fear she will never 
speak to him again. Leave 
this house before it is alto- 
gether too late. I will get 
you received into a home 
where you will be shielded 
from temptation, where you 
will be kindly treated, and 
have time for repentance and 
the chance of making a fresh 
start. 1 She sprang to her 
feet, and her eyes positively 
flashed fury. She asked me 
how I dared to insinuate such 
dreadful things, then she grew 
quieter, and added^ * As for 
Mr. Burroughs, my master, 
he is noble, and honest, and 
true, but if your friend is 
j . like you, his sister, and ready 
to think evil of him and 
distrust him— then it is she 
who is not fit — not good 
enough for him.' With 
that she turned ber back 
upon me and began to re- 
place the pictures in the 
recess, and I could only come away/' 1 

14 Do you think, Hilda, we can have made 
a mistake? She will be sure to tell Geoff/' 

Hymar had been too proud to show 
in the presence of her assailant the full 
bitterness of the wound inflicted- She had 
been taken by surprise ; emotions which 
the peace of the last few months had 
tranquillized had been roused into sudden 
fresh vitality, and then had followed an 
accusation, the full meaning of which in her 
bewilderment she had at first been hardly able 
to grasp. When she saw its hideous intent, she 
was strong enough to repudiate it for herself 
and to vindicate the friend who had rescued 
her from despair, but when the door closed 
behind the woman who had insulted her, she 
sank down in a miserable little heap. 
Through all these months her one desire had 
been to render faithful service to the man to 
whom she owed so much, and now she 
learned that her very presence had wrought 
him nothing but harm, had been the means 
of perhaps separating him for ever from that 




beautiful woman whom it was to be supposed 
he loved. She was to have been his wife. 

Hy mar's thoughts travelled back to her 
own humble girlish love-story. Would she 
have thrown over her lover on such a bare 
and vile suspicion? She concluded that the 
ways of gentlefolk were different. At any 
rate, she decided this place could be a home 
for her no longer ; her own pride and her 
good name forbade it, and she could not 
stay to ruin her friend's happiness. If she 
disappeared, the story would be explained 
and forgotten, but so long as she remained 
she knew that Geoffrey's sense of justice 
would lead him to defend her, and she would 
become a mere bone of contention. Also she 
felt ashamed to face her master, knowing that 
the construction placed upon his goodness to 
her must reach his ears. The only course 
possible seemed to fly. Where ? Ah, that 
poor Hymar could not tell — her heart went 
out to the only spot on earth which seemed 
all her own. 

She did her work as usual that night and 
the following morning, attended to Mrs* 
Johnson, who was fortunately able to come 
downstairs* and prepared everything with 
grateful, heart- breaking solicitude for her 
masters return ; he was not expected until 
about nine o'clock in the evening. When 
all was ready, she asked leave to go out, 

When Geoffrey Burroughs was eating his 
dinner that night, with a good traveller's 
appetite, in the warm, fireiit dining-room off 
the studio, he asked for Hymar, wondering 
why she was not there as usual to change 
the dishes and attend to his wants. Sandy 
was fulfilling these duties to the best of his 
ability, and replied that, having asked leave 
to go out that evening at seven o'clock, she 
had not yet returned. 

Geoffrey felt annoyed, but when the usual 
time for closing the house arrived, and Sandy 
came with anxious face to ask if he should 
bar the door, Hymar being still out, he 
was seriously disturbed. The weather had 
changed since the previous day with sudden, 
treacherous gu&tiness* During the afternoon 
sleet had begun to fall, a cold wind from the 
north-east had set in ; and now it was snow- 
ing heavily. "Leave the door, Sandy," he 
said, ''I am going to sit up for another 
hour or so. 1 will let Hymar in, and give 
her a scolding." 

But the hour passed, and no Hymar 
came. Geoffrey was really alarmed Was 
the girl had after all, or had sonic harm 
befallen her? He drew the curtain aside, 
and looked out into tlfe^ .Meak n [white 


world — where was the child on this bitter 
night? He left the curtain undrawn, the 
lamp-light streaming over the newly-fallen 
snow, so that if she came she might not fear 
to ask admittance, and taking a candle, 
wandered into the studio. 

The drawing she had finished was upon 
the easel she used He took it up and 
examined it with critical care. His heart 

,H IIK i:\AMl\hli r[ with CfcmCAL CAHK." 

was aching ; he had looked upon this girl as 
peculiarly rescued and restored to society by 
himself ; she was a pupil of great promise, 
and her Future had been a source of interest 
and speculation. He was often laughed at 
for views which were held to be optimistic 
and quixotic he had looked to her to justify 
them. His experiments had failed so often. 
Then he saw that a few words had been 
written in crayon beneath the drawing: "I 
tried to finish this right. I thank you from 
my heart for all your great goodness. I can 
never tell >Qd"h<b^lrfifePdhV' 




{ iood heavens ! What did she mean ? She 
must have intended to go. He glanced 
round the room, went to the writing table 
and opened the blotting- book ; there might 
be some further message* He found one or 
two torn pieces of paper on which he dis- 
tinguished his sister's writing. Lotta had 
been here, then* Already he began to swear 
internally. Carrying on his investigations, it 
struck him that the draperies over the recess 
had been disarranged, Hymar was very 
careful in these matters, never disturbing 
things beyond her province. He pushed 
aside the curtain and saw lying on the top of 
the pile of canvases the sketch of Hymar and 
her child, which he had purposely hidden. 

" Lotta has been routing," he muttered, 
'* D- 1 ah, bless her — can this have any- 
thing to do with the present mystery ? " 

He took up the sketch and studied it 
afresh t trying to read all that it might imply- 
He returned it to its place almost with a 
groan, and looked at his watch. It was nearly 
one o'clock ; a wild nighty and Hyapar had 
not returned. He went upstairs and roused 
Sandy, then out to the nearest police-station. 

It was in the grey of the early winters 
morning that two 
men entered the 
Highgate cemetery, 
and after some 
searching found 
their way to a grave 
of which they had 
secured the number, 
It was a very small 
grave ; almost hid- 
den in the snow, 
but it was distin- 
guished by a dark 
object not entirely 

"Good heavens, 
she is there!' 1 said 

He and the other man, a policeman, lifted 
her and carried her to the keeper's cottage at 
the gate. 

A week later Geoffrey wrote to his sister. 

11 You may be thankful," he said, " that the 
death of a fellow -creature does not lie at 
your door. They say at the hospital that 
Hymar Meadows will recover. I suppose 
you know by this time that Hilda May no 
has broken off her engagement to me. My 
non-appearance at Queen's Gate the day 
after my return completed the sum of my 
offence. Having been up all night, wander- 
ing about in the snow, after a long journey, 
I did not feel fit — but she did not deem 
my explanation on this and other points 
sufficient. I am astonished to find with 
what equanimity I bear my dismissal, 
Hymar Meadows is ordered the most abso- 
lute quiet — so pray make no effort to see her. 
I have discovered that though her father was 
a small tradesman, she comes of gipsy origin 
on the mother's side, which may account for 
her peculiar name and her high temper. She 
will probably be ordered to finish the winter 
in a warmer climate so soon as she is able to 


" He will cer- 
tainly marry her," 
said Miss Bur- 
roughs, when she 
read this epistle 
aloud to her 

"If he does, 
Charlotte/ 5 said 
the elder lady, 
with some asperity, 
il you can certainly 
assure yourself that 
your interference 
brought about the 

nOOKr™ ™ 

a < ;R Jp£i^inal from 

The Greatest Juggler in the World. 


J|OME men were born to explore; 
others to write, or paint, or 
fight, Paul Cinquevalli was 
born to juggle, As a boy at 
school he would throw his slate 
and pencil high into the air, 

catch the pencil first, and then swiftly draw 

the letter "A" in three lightning strokes, 

while yet the slate was in the air, 

Therefore it is not to be wondered at that 

the boy presently 

ran away from 

home with a pro- 
fessional gymnast, 

whose discern- 
ing eye saw a 

fortune in the little 

fellow, And Paul, 

by the way, adopted 

the name of his 

new guardian. 
Soon he made a 

name, and his 

father, reversing 

the parable, came 

to him and fell 

upon his neck. 
Although rather 

below medium 

height, Paul Cin- 
quevalli possesses 

enormous strength; 

his patience, too> is 

almost incredible, 

and his vigilance 

The feat depicted 

in the first photo- 
graph calls for all 

these things. The 

juggler conies on 

to the stage wearing the 

spiked helmet, and carry- 
ing four sections of a 

jointed pole. The tub is 

then brought on. He 

would bring it on himself 

only it's a thing one can't 

carry about conveni- 
ently ; it is a family tub, 

and weighs 44IU The 

juggler places it on one 

season of the pole f and 

makes it spin, When 

its velocity is great, he 

If -k tAltllli^ ,i fit. 1 

commences to lengthen L--mE 

the pole by fitting the other sections ; and 
at last the lower end of the pole is resting 
on his shoulder, whilst the tub is revolving 
madly some 25ft above his head. 

Even so far, this is no ordinary feat of 
nerve and strength ; but what follows would 
be absolutely incredible were it not that 
multitudes have seen it done. Raising one 
hand, Cinquevalli deliberately dashes away 
the pole from beneath the tub, causing the 

latter to fall in a 
perfectly straight 
line. The great 
juggler braces him- 
self for a tremen- 
dous effort, and 
after judging the 
centre, he dexter- 
ously catches the 
huge tub on the 
spike of his helmet 
And there the tub 
keeps revolving, 
But only consider 
the thing, A 44II). 
tub falling 25ft, on 
to a man's head ! 
4i If I am only two 
or three inches out 
of the centre/' said 
Mr, Cinquevalli to 
me, u the tub sends 
me flying across 


t' t»S | HE 

IKIA[]'"T t 

the stage, and 
nearly breaks my 
neck with its whirl- 
ing impact." 

Once, at Lyons, 

that tub hurled 

Mr. Cinquevalli 

twenty feet from 

iv here he stood ; and 

to-day one may see the 

scars inflicted at various 

times by its murderous 


The wonderful balanc- 
ing feat shown in the 
next photo, is the most 
difficult in even Cinque- 
valli ? s repertoire ; it took 
him eight years to 
perfect A glass is held 
in his mouth. In the 
dass is a billiard ball, 
I frg Which is balanced an 




ordinary cue. On top of the cue 
are balanced two other billiard 
balls, one on top of the other. 
After eighteen months' weary 
practice he could maintain the lot 
in position for one, two, or three 
seconds — "'then my will gave way, 
and I gave it up/ 1 Later on, in 
Chicago, he again attempted this 
feat, but found he couldn't do it at 


he after- 
was some 

all, solely because — as 
wards found out— there 
heavy machinery work- 
ing in the basement of 
the house in which he 
lodged* He moved to 
San Francisco, and 
recommenced practice 
with some success. 

It sounds idiotic to 
say that anyone could 
do this if the billiard 
halls were flattened ; 
of course he could. 
Times beyond number 
has Mr. Cinque vail i 
been called upon in 
various parts of the 
world to decide bets 
arising out of this very 
feaL 4i It's an utter 
impossibility/' one man 
will say ; tA he uses wax 
or something," But he 

In these two photos, 
Cinquevalli is seen in 
a queer garment This 
is bis •* billiard table 71 
jacket t which was made 
to hb order by a Regent 
Street tailor. Briefly, 
he plays an orthodox, scientific game of 
billiards on his own sinewy person. The 
jacket is of real billiard cloth, with five 
beautifully-made pockets of cord and brass 
wire. The sixth ** pocket " is the juggler's 
own right ear, ^nd his forehead is "'spot/' 
His arms and knees serve as cushions, and 
wonderful cushions they are, 

Roberts or Peall would consider the whole 
game wonderful. "I play an ordinary game 
of 'fifty up 3 " J says Mr, CinquevallL ■* Cannons 
ire made in the air. There is a pocket on 
each shoulder, two in front, and one at the 
bottom of my back," 

The game is a very miracle of neatness 
and skill. The balls fly into the air, cannon, 
and then descend, only to glide hither and 



thither, in and out of the pockets, 
actuated only by a series of sharp 
jerks on the part of the player, 
** When the balls are moving over 
my back, I am guided only by the 
sense of touch." And marvellously 
delicate must that sense be, con- 
sidering the relative lightness of 
the balls and the thickness of the 
green jacket and tights. The 
prettiest and most difficult move 
of all is from the low back pocket 
into one of the 
p shoulder pockets. The 
ball doesn't seem to 
know where to go ; it 
runs along hesitatingly, 
but at last it recognises 
its destination, and 
seeks it with a comical 
little spurt. 

Mr. Cinque valli tells 
me that the next trick 
is one involving real 
danger. A 481b. 
cannon ball is pitched 
to him, and he catches 
it on the edge of a 
dinner -plate. Now, 
the plate may have 
flaws in its composi- 
tion, causing it to 
shiver to atoms in the 
jugglers hand and cut 
him severely, as, 
indeed, has often been 
tlit* casr. T asked Mr, 
Cinquevalli how far 
the cannon-ball might 
be thrown in this feat. 
lg The farther the 
better," he replied J 






" for then I have mure time to judge 
where it will descend. In most caseSj 
however/' he went on, " my assistant 
is not strong enough to pitch it very 
far- as you may imagine," 

He is an extraordinary man, this 
Cinquevalli. He might have his big 
tub suspended with fine wire, his 
billiard balls slightly flattened, and his 
cannon-ball hollow, or made of wood 
— such as his imitators use* Only, 
personally, he despises such professional 
chicanery. Once he saw a Japanese 
juggler throw up a weighted worsted 
ball and catch it dead on his forehead. 
He suggested using an ordinary tennis- 
ball instead, and he offered one. The 
Japanese juggler laughed and took it 
airily. Every time the tennis - ball 
came down it struck the man's ton - 
In nl ;:! a different angle, and re- 
bounded a ridiculous distance. After 
half an hour's practice, that Japanese 
juggler said the thing was impossible. 
Now, Cinquevalli literally knows not 
tins word as applied to a juggling feat, 
so he took home with him that identical 
tennis-ball, and practised daily for 
exactly four months. He does it easily 
now. The ball descends, rebounds, and is 
caught again and again, until it is coaxed 
own inert. 

An amazing feat of quickness and dex- 
terity is next shown, Cinquevalli holds in 
his left hand a blow-pipe, loaded with a 
small dart, whilst in the right he juggles a 
heavy knife, a fork, and a turnip. All at 
once the fork is thrown high into the air, 
followed by the turnip. Some fraction 

of time before the 
ascending turnip 
meets the prongs 
of the descending 
fork, the blow-pipe 
is used and the 
dart embedded in 
the turnip. A 
moment later, the 
united three are 
received on the 
blade of the 
knife, and the 
juggler claims his 

This beautiful 
feat grew out of 
another. At 
supper in St. 
Petersburg, one 
night, Mr, Cinque- 
valli's host asked 
him to do some- 
thing for the com- 
pany's entertain- 
ment. He pro- 
tested he had no 
a ppa ra tus, wh ere- 
upon the host 
(resourceful man !) 
handed him a 
knife and fork and 
a potato that had 
been boiled in its 
u jacket Tf — as 
every potato 
should be, by the 

The famous 
juggler juggled 
these things aim- 
lessly for a time 
until the new trick 
came to him like 
a flash. Rising 
like one inspired, 
he continued to 
throw up the three 
articles, higher and higher. 

Suddenly, whilst the potato w T as falling, 
Cinquevalli sliced it., in halves by a swift 

DAK I, hUtthl AND H'KMI'. 



half on the point of knife and fork. He 
succeeded first time, in fact ; but when he 
bega,n seriously to practise the feat, he 
realized its extreme difficulty of achievement. 
The potato could never be depended upon. 

According to its 

r texture, it would 

^fc^v either fall perpen- 

* dicularly or else 

evince a sudden 

briskness on being 

halved, which 

would cause it to 

HO [-TJ.K Dt:St."]-:N[J[N^i. 

glance off at peculiar angles. It was only 
after using almost as many sacks of potatoes 
as would mitigate an Indian (or Irish) famine, 
that the juggler was able to combat the 
vagaries of the erratic tuber. 

It will be seen that Mr. Cinque vail i juggles 
with very homely articles, and gets ideas for 
new feats in very curious ways, lake the 
clever and diverting feat shown in the next 
two photos. li One summer I was up the 
Thames picnicking with a party of friends. 
At Marlow we left the launch, and on the 
bank there we spread the cloth, later, 1 
commenced juggling as usual with every- 
thing within reach — sardine-bo vs ? glasses, 


serviettes, and so on. Then I picked up 
an umbrella, and presently a bottle half 
full of lemonade. After juggling these in 
various ways, I threw up the bottle, opened 
the umbrella while it was descending, and 
received it upon the ferrule, while it poured 
out its contents/' Of course, this added a 
new trick to Mr, Cinquevalli's list. 

He only lives to juggle. Once he dropped 
a half-crown ; it fell on to his felt slipper, 
Without stooping to pick it up, he gave his 
foot a jerk, and lo I the coin flew into his eye 
as an eye-glass. When this was done he 
jerked his slipper upwards from his foot, and 
it instantly stood meekly, toe upwards, on his 
massive head. 

He has sustained injuries innumerable, 
and almost any one of these would have 
induced an ordinary man to seek a less 
dangerous and trying calling, In his 

acrobatic days 
he was doin j n 
wire - walk in- 
act in a circus 
at Odessa, 
The weight of 
snow burst the 
canvas roof and 
descended into 
the arena like 
an avalanche, 
Of cour>- ii 
swept the wire 
walker with it. 
He fell on to a 
lady's lap, break- 

ing both her legs ; she died, and her guiltless 
slayer was laid up for weeks. 

A very effective feat is depicted in the 
next two plQfifljnBiiffQrtBown. It is some- 




thing of a physical phenomenon, but we fi 
needn't enter into that Mr. Cinqueva Hi's 
assistant holds two open 
razors, and from these are ^rr-vT»- 

suspended a couple of loops 

1886, The Prince him- 
self was greatly struck 
with it, and asked the 
juggler to repeat it again 
and again, in order that he 
himself might select razors, 
broom -handle, and striking 
stick, and also make the 
paper loops. 

This well-known enter- 
tainer has for many years 
practised the extremely 
difficult art of doing several 
things at once, until now 
one may see him at 
home writing an 
important business 
letter with one hand, 
juggling three plates 
with the other, and 
at the same time 
carrying on an ani- 
mated conversation 
with two different 

One result of 
incessant practice tn 
this direction is the 
successful accom- 
plishment of feats 
like the one next 

I 1.: I ik 1 -•' 


Here we 


of twisted paper, made 
before the audience. 
In the loops is hung a 

The juggler then 
takes a heavy oak stick, 
and sharply strikes the 
broom-handle, breaking 
it in halves, but with- 
out in any way injuring 
the paper loops that are 
hung on the razor- 
edges. Sometimes the 
trick is varied by plac- 
ing the h room -handle 
on two clay-pipes, these 
pipes being smoked, 
more or less placidly, 
by a couple of 

Mr* Cinquevalli per- 
formed this interesting 
feat before a brilliant 
gathering at Marl- 
borough House, in 


: feat A&t*£ti«a4ifrom 



U*' J"**! 




Elsewhere I remarked that at all times 
Mr. Cinquevalli is on the look-out for 
new tricks. Tin afraid he is often something 

of a trial in the 
house. The 
M after n o on 
tea " feat was 
actually in- 
vented at that 
cosy, attractive 
meal, and a 
remarka bly 
neat trick it is. 
He juggles first 
of all with a 
cup, a saucer, 
a lump of 
sugar, and a 
teapot half full of 
tea. Suddenly the 
cup descends as if 
by magic into the 
saucer, the laggard 
sugar joins the cup 
a second later, and 
before you could 
count threa Mr. 
Cinquevalli is gal- 
lantly pouring out 
" a nice hot cup " — 
not indeed for one 
fair lady, but for a 
mixed multitude. 

see Mr. Cinquevalli juggling plates with one 
hand, and keeping a basin revolving on a 
stick with the other, whilst his powerful head 
is performing a trick of extraordinary delicacy. 
On his forehead in balanced a lighted candle, 
and in his mouth he has an unlighted 
cigarette in a holder. By certain move- 
ments of the jaws the cigarette goes back 
to the candle, and is lighted and smoked for 
a while, At length, it is ejected by blowing 
through the holder, and the latter then 
inclines again towards the candle, which it 
extinguishes — that is to say, Mr. Cinquevalli 
blows tit rough it once more. And, remember, 
during all this both arms arv' occupied in 

different juggling actions. 
Vol, xiil.— 13. 


Here is, per- 
haps, the jug- 
gler's riskiest 
feat He first 
of all balances 
two pieces of 
gas-piping- -one 
on his forehead, 
the other on his 
chin. On the 
former is placed 
the 4Slb. cannon- 
ball, which the 
juggler has to 
transfer to the 
other piece of 
piping without 
using his hands 

Slowly the fore- 
head piece inclines 
forward until it 
touches the great 
ball. It slips 
under it, anartijtnal from"* *, ct hot cn-r 

9 8 



by .some extraordinarily delicate 
movements, it begins to take 
the weight off the other section 
of piping. The crucial moment 
is when the. ball Is exactly 
between the two ; it is so apt 
to slip down between them. 
Obviously, the time for getting 
out of the way is not great. 
The 481b. cannon-ball has only 
to descend 15m., and Mr. 
Cinquevalli '5 head is held well 
back* as you may see in the 

What, then, does he do when 
it slips? Well, somehow he 
knows when it is going wrong ; 
he feels it Quick as thought 
he turns his face aside, and 
receives the ball on the side of 
his neck. Only once or twice 
has the ball had the best of 
the incredibly brief race, and 
then Mr. Cinquevalli couldn't 
take solid food for days, so 
sore and stiff were his jaws 

There is hardly a trick that has not its 
own story, I asked Mr. Cinquevalli how he 
came to do the extremely difficult feat seen 
in the next photo.— difficult if only on 
account of the sheer physical strength called 
into play, 

"Years ago," he said, "I was engaged at 
Koster and BialPs famous theatre, in Thirty- 
fourth Street, New York. Every day, on my way 
to the theatre, I had to pass the shop of a 
wealthy cooper. One morning he greeted 
me as usual, and said : ' Say, I saw yer last 
night, and it were fairly marv'lous— right, 
straight marv'lous.' Then he pointed to 
some 1 81b. casks, and said: l Could you 
juggle them, now ? ' I said I could, where- 
upon he declared with rapture that he would 
make me a set of three, if I would use them. 
And I use that very set now," 

But Cinquevalli 
can juggle with 
anything, He 

. . J 

3 y Google 

juggles a cannon- 
ball, an egg, a 
bottle, and a 
scrap of paper 
all together ; 
which is amaz- 
ingly difficult. 
No feat illustrates the 
man's astonishing instinct 
for his work so well as 
the one next seen. He 
was practising the catch- 
ing of the tennis-ball on 
his forehead when he 
chanced to drop one of 
the balls. As it re- 
bounded, he jumped upon 
it and struck it in the air, 
first with the sole of one 
foot and then with the 

This led up lo the 

in^f^ rdinaril y ckverwar - 




dance, which Mr, Cinque valli executes 
on the stage, having beneath his feet 
some tennis - balls* Of course, the steps 
of the dance are wholly controlled by 
the upward rebound of the balls, and as 


this rebound is 
never twice the 
same, the dance 
is proportion- 
ately eccentric 
and diverting, 
Try this for 
yourself with 
two tenuis halls, 
and you will 
most certainly 
realize the 
apparent impos- 
sibility of a sustained dance. 

Cinque valli possesses amazing strength, 
though no one wsuld think so who met him 
in the street. Look at the next photo. The 
juggler has raised his assistant- --table, chair, 
and all —and placed the whole in his mouth, 
whilst he juggles three balls with evident 
n&nchxtante* The assistant weighs iost. 61b. ; 
the chair 22lb,,and the table 151b. And this 
in a man's mouth ! 

The genesis of this remarkable feat was a 
wager, made in a cafe in Paris. CinquevalK was 
there recognised one day by a gentleman, who 
betted 500 francs that the juggler could not 
lift him in the chair above his head. Simply 
that — no holding the chair in the mouth. 
The challenge was accepted, and Mr, Cin- 
que valli retired to practise with a terrified 
waiter. In a few minutes he came in and 
won the wager, though with a tremendous 
effort "I couldn't hold the gentleman quite 
at arms' length above my head/' he remarked, 
naively, (i because he was in such a hurry 

to get down. Besides, on that occasion the 
chair was none too strong." 

The next photograph shows how complete 
is the great juggler's command over three 
separate movements executed at the same 
time. He juggles some hats with one hand, 
and holds in the other an inverted straw hat, 
whirling on a stick, On his forehead is 
balanced another stick, surmounted by an 
unfashionable hat, 

Mr, Cinquevalli has juggled with his great 
cannon-ball for many years, but the law of 
gravitation still renders it a dangerous profes- 
sional companion. It does not turn upon and 
rend him, but it sometimes descends upon and 
cripples him. Tame it may be for a long 
time, but it breaks out now and then. The 
photo* reproduced shows a perfectly appalling 

by L^OOgle 

'Original from 






feat, done for the first time in Providence, 
U.S.A. The manner of it is this : The 4 Sib. 
cannon-ball is hoisted up 40ft., measured 
distance. It rests on a collapsible shelf at 
this height, and the shelf is controlled by a 
string, acting on a bolt 

Immediately beneath the ball is placed a 
big, strong table. The string is jerked ■ 

down comes the cannon-ball and smashes 
that table into firewood. And then Cinque- 
valli takes the place of the table. The feat 
calls for great strength, iron nerve, and 
wonderful skill of judgment. If the stage 
lights get into the juggler's eyes, the ball 
will, perhaps, strike him an inch or two out 
of the proper place— the lower part of the 
back of the neck— and then he sees stars, 
and gets " pins and needles " most shockingly. 
If the deviation were to run to three cr four 
inches, it would mean certain death. 



by Google 

Original from 

By RojtKKT 1!akk. 

F a man finds himself enduring 
a night journey on nn American 
railway train, there are two or 
three things he may do to 
make life worth living. If he 
has two dollars to spare, with 
twenty-five cents extra for the porter in the 
morning, he may enrich Mr. Pullman to the 
extent of the two dollars, and thus get a 
berth in the sleeping car. This is a good 
way to spend two dollars, and if you are on 
a line where train robbers are epidemic you 
are just that much ahead, for what Pullman 
gets, you may depend the train robbers never 
see, and so you have the comfort of the 
berth, and the .satisfaction of knowing that 
your money has been divided between two 
sets of robbers. Of the two I like Pullman 
the better, for he certainly gives you some- 
thing for the money, while the others give 
you nothing but bad language, with perhaps 
an ounce of lead thrown in. 

If you haven't the two dollars to spare, 
there are still three things left for you to do. 
You nujv sit bolt upright in your seat ; or 
you may turn the back of the opposite seat 

Digitized by LiOO^K' 

over, and stretch your weary legs across the 
chasm ; or you may try to lie down on one 
seat, which you will find to be practically 
impossible unless you are as short of stature 
as you are short of cash. Entering a 
smoking car at night on a through express 
you will find men in all these three attitudes, 
doing the best they can with the weary hours 
that are head of them until daylight breaks. 

The smoking car on the night express of 
the Texas, Belmont, and Crucifer Air Line 
was well filled with men of all descriptions, 
most of whom were endeavouring to get some 
sleep in one or other of the three attitudes 
above alluded to. There was only one sleep- 
ing car on the train at the rear i in front of 
that came two ordinary cars, then the smoker, 
the luggage car, the car of the American 
Express Company, and in front of all, the 
engine. On that train were two very anxious 
men, and they sat on camp stools near the 
big safe in the express car, fully armed, 
knowing that in that safe were gold packages 
amounting to over 200,000 dollars, coming 
east from California. These two men, at 
least, made no attempt to sleep, but listened, 




without saying much, to the express grinding 
on through the night, the whistle of the engine 
breaking through the continuous roar with an 
occasional long toot followed by two short 
ones. It was now midnight, and in two hours 
the train would reach Belmont ; after that the 
two guards of the safe would feel easier in their 
minds. They were at present going through 
a wild country where anything might happen, 
although they hoped that the secret of the 
safe had been well kept. It is astonishing 
how news leaks out and how quickly it 
travels when large sums of money are being 
transported across the plains. 

In the forward end of the smoking car 
four bearded men sat opposite each other 
playing euchre. They were rough-looking 
citizens who might have been cow-boys or 
anything else. The conductor looked askance 
at them as he collected the money for their 
ride, for none of them had tickets, but they 
paid their fares without trouble, and that in 
itself was a boon, for the conductor expected 
some dispute, from the look of them. Three 
others had come on at the next station, and 
were now watching the game. There were a 
few more passengers in the car who might 
have been suspected of belonging to the 
same gang— if gang it was — but no sign of 
recognition passed between the card-players 
and the others, who were apparently trying to 
get some sleep. 

" I don't half like the look of that crowd," 
said the conductor to the brakeman, after he 
had collected the tickets and the fares. 

"What's the matter with them?" asked 
the brakeman, who was chewing tobacco, 
taking a bite from a black plug as he spoke. 
"They seem quiet enough." 

The brakeman appeared to be himself 
about as rough a customer as any of the 
card-players, and so, perhaps, had a feeling 
of comradeship for them. 

11 That's just it. They're too darned quiet," 
replied the conductor. " If they were real 
cow-boys playing a real game, there would 
have been a row before this, sure. That tall 
black-whiskered man's been looking at his 
watch a good deal lately, and's been trying 
to peek through the window 'sif he wanted 
to know just where we were. I don't like 
the look of it." 

" Think they're going to hold us up ? " 
inquired the brakeman, with a trace of anxiety 
in his voice. 

" I shouldn't be a bit surprised." 

" Why, there ain't fifty dollars on the whole 
train, is there ? How many people in the 
sleeper ? " 

by LiOOglC 

" Not more'n half-a-dozen ; still, there may 
be some rich cuss on board we don't know any- 
thing about. These chaps may be onto him." 

" Well," drawled the brakeman, with some 
deliberation, " I give the T., B., and C. Co. 
notice that when the firing begins I crawl 
under a seat I don't take no lead in mine 
for thirty-five dollars a month." 

The conductor made no reply to this heroic 
declaration, for at that moment the engine 
gave a long whistle, and through the entire 
train ran the shudder of the quickly applied 
air-brake. The two train men hurried to 
the outside platform, and the conductor, 
hanging on by the iron stanchion rods, leaned 
forward, peering along the side of the slowing 
train, and saw in the darkness far ahead down 
the line the waving of a red lantern— the 
signal of danger. 

When the train came to a standstill, there 
appeared on each side of the engine shadowy 
forms that seemed to have risen from the black 
earth. In response to a curt command, 
engineer and stoker threw up their hands 
and remained in that position, standing out 
redly against the glare of the engine fires. 
A masked man with a seven-shooter in his 
hand entered each door of the smoker, and 
instantly most of the now wide-awake 
passengers got under the seats. Not all of 
them, however. The tall, black-bearded man 
who had been one of the card-players, rose 
hastily to his feet, letting the bits of pasteboard 
flutter unheeded to the floor. He cursed 
loudly and energetically, using the most fearful 
language with a dexterity and ease that 
instantly commanded the respectful admira- 
tion of the masked men at each end of the 
car, who both paid him the immediate com- 
pliment of turning the muzzles of their 
weapons upon him. 

" Throw up your hands ! " they cried, 

" Throw up nothing," cried the man, in a 
tone of the utmost contempt, although he 
forbore to make any motion that might 
indicate he possessed a gun himself. " Do 
you know who you're chinning ? I'm Steve 

" The deuce you are ! " cried one of the 
masked men, lowering the point of his 

" Same thing," replied Steve, who was 
justly proud of his well-earned reputation, 
being known far and wide as the most 
industrious and capable train robber in all 
Texas : a quick-firing, straight-shooting, ruth- 
less desperado, afraid of nothing, least of all 

the law. 

Original from 





"Who's running this show?" demanded 
Mannies, 4 * Who's your boss ? " 

i; We Ye Captain Snikes's gang," replied the 
other, with deference. 

4i I might a-known it/ 1 cried Steve, with 
unconcealed derision, "It's just like his 
Sunday-school picnic way of holding up a 
train, I'm going out to have a talk with 

The masked man made no attempt to stop 
Steve and his followers as they poured out of 
the car into the surrounding darkness* 

'* What are you about there ? " yelled a 
voice from near the engine, u Don't let 
those men leave the car.' 1 

'* Its Steve Mannies and his boys," shouted 
back the masked man, in excuse, 

Although the surprised Captain Snikes 
merely mentioned the lower regions, there 
was a tremor in his voice which showed 
that the unexpected meeting with so noted a 
man as Steve was not one of unalloyed 

' l See here, Captain/' roared the angry 
desperado, "What's the meaning of this? 
What are you doing on my territory? Have 
I been asleep, or jugged, or have I been 

Digitized by GoOglC 

yelling for help that you've got to poke your 
nose into my district? Can't 1 take care of 
these here trains, or has there been any 
complaint on the part of the T., B., and C. 
Company that I'm n*:t looking after them 
close enough ? What in thunder's the reason 
0* your being out so late at night, anyhow? 
Some o J you boys 11 catch cold, first thing, 
you know." 

ki Why, hang it, Steve/' said the Captain, 
in tones of apology, *' I didn't know you 
win: in this locality at all. You see, nobody's 
heard from you for a month, and we thought 
perhaps you had struck for Californy. We 
did, sure- But 111 tell you what we'll do. 
We'll divide square and fair." 

" Divide nothing/' cried Steve. " This 
train's mine, and you've no business here at 
all. Still, there's nothing mean about me, 
and I like to encourage amatoors, If you 
want the passengers, you can have 'em. You 
go through ? em, and then git." 

" We don't want no passengers, not to- 
night we don't/' demurred the Captain. "We 
got news from 'Frisco, and thought nobody 
else was onto it. We're after the safe, an* 

that's what's the matter with this crowd," 


r - i 


u Well, Td like to oblige you, but that 
safe's mine. We had news from 'Frisco, too. 
Did you think we were off on our vacation ? n 

" Won't you divide ? JS appealed the Captain* 
"There ought to be enough to go round." 

"Nary a divide/' said Steve, determinedly, 

his finger on a trigger. In two seconds the 
biggest fight that part of Texas had ever seen 
was on, and the black darkness was fitfully 
spotted with the crimson spitting of revolvers. 
Cries of rage and pain showed that some at 
least of the bullets were finding their billets, 


"The safe's ours, and has been ever since we 
got on the express. We've got dynamite in 
a bag to blow her open, and we'd a -been 
through and away by this time if you hadn't 
chipped into the game when you weren't 

At this juncture one of the express mes- 
sengers, with a genius for doing the right 
thing at the psychological moment, fired at 
Steve, dimly seen through the radiance from 
the car windows ; missed him, of course, but 
winged one of the gang standing near, who 
instantly whipped out his gun with ;in oath, 
and blazed away in the direction the shot 
came from. Kadi side thought the other 
had broken the understood truce, and had 
fired first. lioth gangs had been on the 
alert for that very thing, and e 

very man had 

The conductor crouching along on the off- 
side of the train, stole up to the engine, and 
said in a hoarse whisper to the driver, who 
still stood dazed, with his hands above his 
head : — 

tl For God's sake, John, pull out quick." 

Li Ain't they covering me ? " asked the 
frightened engineer, in a trembling voice, 

*'No. VouVe all safe. They're fighting 
like cats and dogs. (Jet a move on you," 

" But the track's bound to be torn up 

"We'll have to risk that, John. Anything's 
better than this. Pull yourself together and 
clap on all the steam shell stand, ?> said the 
i inuhkiuf, climbing up beside the engineer. 

The engine gave three stentorian puffs, SO 
loud thaOritaittfil tentiuctor and engineer 




trembled with apprehension lest the sound 
would be heard by the combatants above the 
roar of the fusillade, then the train glided 
almost noiselessly away into the darkness. 

When the firing slackened off a bit, the 
voice of Captain Snikes from behind a bush 
made itself heard. 

" Put up your guns/'' he yelled. u What's 
the use of this nonsense ? Somebody will 
get hurt with all this carelessness. Stop 
your pack of fools, Steve," 

'* Stop yours," roared Steve, "You began 
it, you lunkhead." 

" We didn't. You fired first/' 

* ( YouVe a liar," cried the thoroughly 
exasperated Steve. (t One o' your men fired 

In answer to this there was a torrent of 
profanity from Steve that startled both gangs 
with its comprehensive terseness. The smoke 
had now partially cleared away, Steve stood 
between the rails looking eastward at the two 
rear lights winking maliciously at him in the 

"Well, I'm jiggered ! " said Steve, more 
in sorrow than in anger, his stock of 
malediction running dry when a realiza- 
tion of the joke fate had played upon 
him became more and more apparent. 
" While our love-feast was going on, blow 
me if these tenderfeet didn't steal our train 
with my dynamite on board ! This is what 
comes of your interference, Captain. There 


at me and hit Bill Simmons, I never see 
si*ch foolish shooting in my life before. 
You fellows couldn't hit the Nevada 

" You're not much baiter, Well, Steve, 
seeing if s you, we'll go through the passengers 
while you blow up the safe," 

goes nearly a quarter of a million of good, 
sound money to some cussed bloated 
capitalist in the east, who has no more right 
to it than you had, and between the two of 
you Tm robbed of my own. Hang me if 
I don't turn former, and take up 160 acres 
of hind to grow turnips on ! " 

VdL KiiL— M. 

by Google 

Origin-al from 

" The Professors Puzzles." 

SOLUTIONS.— By "Sphinx." 


(page 720). — The point of this 
puzzle turns on the fact that if 
the magic square were to be 
composed of whole numbers 
adding up 15 in all 'ways, the 
2 must be placed in one of the corners. 
Otherwise fractions must be used, and these 
are supplied in the puzzle by the employment 
of sixpences and half-crowns. The following 
(No. 1) is the arrangement 
requiring the fewest possible 
current English coins — fif- 
teen. It will be seen that 
the amount in each corner 
is a fractional one, the sum 
required in the total being 
a whole number of .shillings. 
The Postage Stamps 
Puzzle (page 721). — This 
puzzle is based on a similar 
principle, though it is really 
much easier, because the 
condition that nine of the 
stamps must be of different 
values makes their selection 
an easy matter, though how they are to be 
placed requires a little thought or trial until 
one knows the rule respecting putting the 
fractions in the corners. Here is the solution 
(No. 2). 

The Map Puzzle (page 721). — Strange as 
it may seem at first sight, the twenty-six 
districts may all be coloured strictly within 
the conditions with four colours — the fewest 
possible. This may be done as follows : 
a,c,f,i,m,x — red ; d,g,n,q,r,u,y — blue ; 
h,j,l,o,t,w,z — yellow ; b,e,k,p,s,v — green. 
Now, if there had been three colours (red, 
blue, and yellow) in the 
paint-box, green, orange, or 
purple could clearly have 
been obtained by mixing two 
colours. * But four colours 
cannot be obtained from 
fewer than three (I am speak- 
ing of distinct colours, not 
gradations of hue). Conse- 
quently, there must have 
been two (" not enough 
colours by one ") in the box. 
The Frogs and Tum- 
blers (page 722). — It i& 
perfectly true, as the Pro- 


















fessor said, that there is only one solution (not 
counting a reversal) to this puzzle. The frogs 
that jump are George in the third horizontal 
row ; Chang, the artful-looking batrachian at 
the end of the fourth row ; and Wilhelmina, 
the fair creature in the seventh row. George 
jumps downwards to the second tumbler in 
the seventh row ; Chang, who can only leap 
short distances in consequence of chronic 
rheumatism, removes somewhat unwillingly to 
the glass just above him — 
the eighth in the third row ; 
while Wilhelmina, with all 
the sprightliness of her youth 
and sex, performs the very 
creditable saltatory feat of 
leaping to the fourth tumbler 
in the fourth row. In their 
new positions it will be found 
that of the eight frogs no 
two are in a line vertically, 
horizontally, or diagonally. 

Romeo and Juliet (page 
722). — This is really a very 
difficult puzzle, though, as 
the Professor remarked when 
Hawkhurst hit on the solution, it is " just one 
of those puzzles that a person might solve 
at a glance" by pure luck. Yet when the 
following solution (No. 3), with its pretty, 
symmetrical arrangement, is seen, it looks 
ridiculously simple. 

It will be found that Romeo reaches Juliet's 
balcony after visiting every house once and 
only once, and making fourteen turnings, 
not counting the turn he makes at starting. 
These are the fewest turnings possible, and 
the problem can only be solved by the 
route shown or its reversal. 

Romeo's Second Jour- 
ney (page 723). — In order 
to take his trip through all 
the white squares only with 
the fewest possible turnings, 
Romeo would do well to 
adopt the following route 
(No. 4), by means of which 
only sixteen turnings are 
required to perform the feat. 
The Professor informs me 
that the Helix aspersa, or 
common or garden snail, 
has a peculiar aversion to 
Icing turnings : so much 




3- — THE RuaifcO A»U jLLJET I LZZLt. 

so, that one specimen with which he made 
experiments went off in a straight line one 
night, and has never come back since. 

The Frogs Who Would a-Wooing do 
(page 723). — This is one of 
those puzzles in which a 
plurality of solutions is prac- 
tically unavoidable. There 
are two or three positions 
into which four frogs may 
jump so as to form live rows 
with four in each row, but the 
following is the most satis- 
factory arrangement — (No. 5), 

The frogs that have jumped 
have left their astral bodies 
behind, in order to shosv 
the reader the positions 
which they originally occu- 
pied, Chang, the frog in the 
middle of the upper row, 
suffering from rheumatism, as 
explained above in the Frogs 
and Tumblers solution, makes 
the shortest jump of all — a 
little distance between the 
two rows; George and Wil- 
helmina leap from the ends 
of the lower row to some 
distance N, by N.W. and 
N. by N.E. respective I 

while the frog in the middle 
of the lower row, whose name 
the Professor forgot to state t 
goes direct south. 

The Six Little Niggers 
(page 724), — In order to 
arrive at the lowest sum 
possible, it is necessary that 
the six niggers should exercise 
the strictest economy in the 
matter of clean sheets. There 
are fourteen different lines in 
which it is possible for the 
niggers to sleep, as Hawk- 
hurst pointed out to the 
Professor, and it will be 
obvious at a glance that on 
each successive night at least 
five of the niggers must change 
their cots. The question is 
whether it is not necessary on 
some nights for every one of 
them to occupy a bed different 
from the one he slept in the 
night before. 

Now, as a matter of fact, 
by forming lines around each 
of the four sides of the square 
in succession, and using the two diagonals as 
links to pass from what may be called one 
system into another, it is quite possible for 
only five niggers to be required to change 


4,— KUMEt/s. &££^KD JOtNNKV. 






their cots during every night of 
their visit. In the following 
diagram (No. 6), the thirty-six 
squares represent the beds, the 
daggers show the fourteen 
different lines, and the num- 
bers the order in which those 
lines are slept in by the boys. 

In passing from line No. i to line No. 2, 
it will be seen that each nigger removes to a 
cot in a straight line along the diagonals, with 
the exception. of the one who slept in the 
top left-hand corner, who retains his bed ; in 
passing from line No. 2 to line No. 3, five 
niggers similarly remove in a straight line to 
new cots, leaving the boy 
at the bottom left-hand 
corner in the cot he 
previously occupied ; and 
so on throughout the 
series. It will, therefore, 
be clear that although 
six pairs of sheets were 
required on the first night, 
on each of the thirteen 
succeeding nights only 
five clean pairs were 
necessary. Hence, five 
times thirteen, added to 
six, gives seventy-one as 
the number of pairs of 
sheets needed during the 
whole visit, and these at 
fourpence a pair produce 
an item in the washing 
bill of £1 3s. 8d., which 
is the correct answer. 

The Thirteen Tra- 
vellers (page 724). — 
The ancient puzzle quoted 
by Grigsby, in which it 
is shown how a clever 
lanJlady placed thirteen 


guests in twelve beds (each 
having a bed to himself), and 
which brought from Hawkhurst 
the remark, "I can scarcely 
believe it ! " contains a curious 
little fallacy that is not difficult 
to discover. Of course, the 
guest fetched from room No. 1 
was actually No. 2 (not No. 13), and the 
thirteenth guest was therefore still un- 
provided for. 

The Strand Puzzle (page 725). — In 
giving the solution of this puzzle, I need 
only record the sequence of moves. Having 
placed the lettered counters in the manner 





^-E&^ : -E|}-Ei3- : 13:-Ep« 







IX. 14 

Original from 






shown in the smaller diagram, play them as 
follows : a^jhjT^.l^S^^^cl^S^fTjCjhj^n^d^e, 
btr v c^d,r t t,S,a— twenty-eight moves in all. As 
there is never more than one vacant place, it 
is, of course, unnecessary to distinguish the 
different squares. 

LoviVs Poxy Puzzle (page 726), — Mr. 
Loyd, who kindly gave me permission to 
introduce this curiosity in company with my 
own puzideSj has sent me the following 
amusing account of a few of the attempts at 
solution that he has received from time to 
time : — 

(t I have, of course, received during 
the thirty years which have elapsed since I 
brought it out, many thousand answers, or 
attempted answers, to that Pony Puzzle. 
Many of the arrangements received were 
very funny and ingenious, reflecting great 
credit upon the patience and skill of their 
authors. I send you three specimens, 
selected pretty much at random, so as to be 

tl The first (No. 7) was received from Master 

Harry Williams, of New York, who said ; 

* ( I guess I've got that pony's 

^^^^ limbs joined on to their 

j/M & proper places, I don't mind 

^ telling you that I caught 

1 ftk the prancing pose from Mr. 

jM Pn Seward Webb's cob at the 

4^C K^^ horse show. When I found 

V m how to do the trick I just 

MM went and danced all over 

^^t the block with delight. If 

, it's wrong, then I'm no judge 

7.--HAKRY WILLIAMS ~ i a 1 ? 

solution, of horse-flesh/ 

M A young lady from 
Atlanta, Ga,, presented the following pic- 
turesque portrayal of a galloping horse (No, 8), 
S!ie said : ' There 
exists a doubt 
in my mind re- 
garding the com- 
pliance with the 
terms of the puzzle 
which called for 
a trotting horse. 
However, trotters 
often run just that 
way, and I am quite sure that no one will 
be able to present a speedier movement. 3 
i; A gentleman from Kentucky, where 

&* — " TBf>TTEKS H(;JS P J LSI 



^^^^ trotting is culti- 
^^^^jtfjffc vated and appre- 
M ft 

^jJ |^ 

^^^^^T^^ji sent the following 
^\ T illustration (No. 9) 

of a prize trotter 
going at what he 
calls 'the 2,14 get-thar pace. 7 He says he 
takes no credit to himself for solving 
the puzzle, as he remembers it as a boy, 
'when everyone knew how to do it J 

" The suggestion that everyone knew how to 
do it confirms the author's suspicion, so often 
confirmed, that out of the millions of persons 
who puzzled over this little trick when it was 
so popular, very few discovered, or even saw, 
the true secret, which you are now publishing 
in England for the first time, and which will 
doubtless amuse and surprise some of the 
authors of the grotesque answers which have 
been sent to me. 

" An examination of the following arrange- 
ment {No. 10) of the three pieces will reveal 
a little white pony, a regular little trotter, in 


the centre of the picture* The black 
portions of the old horse which form the 
background are a delusion and a snare, only 
Utilized in producing 'a horse of quite 
another colour." 7 

The reader will now understand what the 
Professor meant when he said, M the answer 
is very satisfactory, so that the finder will 
know directly he has guessed it." The 
solution of this quaint puzzle is undoubtedly 
as pretty as it is surprising. 

by Google 

Original from 



^ l,qN*n W f, 

I Qf*. 


.WLDKgW ^ 

From the German ok 

Clemens Brentano. 

NCE upon a time there 
was a King of Round- 
about who had, among 
many other servants, 
a page-boy who was 
called Witty splinter, 
and he preferred him above all the others, and 
showered upon him honours and presents, 
because of his uncommon skill and cleverness, 
and because everything the King gave him 
to do he always accomplished successfully. 
Now, because of the great favour which the 
King showed to Witty splinter, all the other 
ptge-boys and servants were jealous of him ; 
for, if his cleverness were rewarded with money 
th^y generally received nothing but scoldings 
for their stupidity — if Wittysplinter received 
praise from the King, they generally received 
a blowing-up — when Witty splinter got a new 
coat to his back, they got instead the 
application of a stick to theirs, and if 
Wittysplinter were permitted to kiss the King's 
hand, they were only allowed to touch it 
when they got a smack from it* 

On account of all these things, there- 
fore, they got very angry with Wittysplinter, 
and went about murmuring and whispering 
the whole day long, and putting their 
heads together and plotting how best 
they could deprive 
of peas 
so that 

Wittysplinter of the 
One of them seat- 
on the steps up to 
Wittysplinter might 
the glass sceptre which 
he always had to present to the King; 
another nailed pieces of melon skin to his 

love of the 
tered a lot 
the throne, 
stumble and 

shoes, so that he might slide along and make 
a dreadful mess of the King's gown when he 
was handing him the soup ; a third put all 
sorts of horrid flies in a straw, and blew 
them into the King's wig when Wittysplinter 
was dressing it ; a fourth played some other 
nasty trick, and everyone sought to do some- 
thing to deprive Wittysplinter of the King's 
favour. Wittysplinter was so cautious, how- 
ever, and so clever and watchful, that every- 
thing they did was in vain, and he brought 
all the commands of the King to a successful 

Well, when they found that all these 
manoeuvres were quite useless they deter- 
mined to try something else. Now, the 
King had an enemy, whom he could never 
get the better of, and who was always doing 
him some mischief. This was a giant who 
was called Sleepy hoad, and who lived in a 
large mountain, where he had a splendid 
palace, surrounded by a thick, gloomy wood ; 
and with the exception of his wife, Thiekas- 
mud, no human being lived with him ; but a 
lion who was called Hendread, and a bear 
called Honeybeard, and a wolf called Lamb- 
snapper, and a dog called Harescare, acted 
as his servants* He had also in the stables 
a horse called Flyingiegs. 

Now, there dwelt m the neighbourhood of 




Roundabout a very beautiful Queen, Madam 
Flosk, who had a daughter, Miss Flink, and 
the King of Roundabout, who wanted to 
possess all the land adjoining his own, was 
very anxious to marry Madam Flosk, But 
she was proud, and let him know that 
many other Kings were also anxious to marry 
her, and that she would accept in marriage 
that King only who was most expeditious, and 
that he who was first by her side when she 
went into church next Monday morning at 
half-past ten should have her as his wife, 
and all her possessions into the bargain. 

Thereupon the King summoned all his 
household, and put the question to them \ 
" How am I to manage to be first in the 
church on Monday morning next, and so 
gain Queen Flosk for my wife? " 

Then his servants answered him, and said : 
" You must gain possession of the 
horse Flyinglegs, belonging to the 
Giant Sleepyhead ; if you once get 
astride of it, no one can possibly get 
there before you ; and to get this 
horse for you no one is more suited 
than Wittysplinter, who is so success- 
ful in all he undertakes*" 

Thus spoke the wicked servants, 
in the hope that the Giant Sleepy- 
head would kill Wittysplinter. The 
King, accordingly, commanded Witty- 
splinter to bring the horse Flyinglegs 
to him, 

Wittysplinter got a hand-barrow, and 
placed a bees' hive on it, 
then a sack into which he 
thrust a cock, a hare, and 
a lamb, and laid it on the 
barrow ; he took with him, 
also, a long piece of rope, 
and a large box full of snuff; 
slung round him a riding 
whip, fastened a pair of 
good spurs to his boots, 
and quietly set off, pushing 
his barrow in front of him. 

Towards evening he had 
reached the summit of the 
high mountain, and when he 
had traversed the wood he 
saw before him the castle of 
the giant Sleepyhead. Night 
drew on, and very soon he 
heard the giant Sleepyhead and his wife, 
Thickasmud, and his lion, Hendrcad, and his 
bear, Honey beard, and his wolf, I^amb snap per, 
and his dog, Harescare, all snoring loudly ; 
only the horse, Flyinglegs, was still awake, and 
stamping the floor of the stable with its hoofs. 

Then Wittysplinter took the long piece of 
rope very quietly from the sack, and stretched 
it across in front of the door of the castle 
from one tree to another, and placed the box 
of snuff in the middle ; next he took the 
beehive and placed it in a tree by the side 
of the path, and then went into the stable 
and undid the fastenings of Flyinglegs* He 
placed the sack with the lamb, the hare, and 
the cock on its back, and jumping up him- 
self and using his spurs 3 he rode out of the 

But the horse Flyinglegs could speak, and 
screamed out quite loudly ; — 

Thickasmud and Sleepyhead ! 
Honey beard and Hen dread ! 
Lambsnapper and Harescare ! 
Tm being stolen, so pray be ware , 

and then it galloped off as hard as it could. 


because, with Wittysplinter on its 
back, it couldn't help itselT. Then 
Thickasmud and Sleepyhead woke 
up and heard the cry of the horse Flyinglegs. 
Quickly they awakened the bear Honeybeard, 
the lion Hendread, the wolf Lambsnapper, 
and the dog Harescare, and altogether they 
rushed pell-mell out of the house, to try and 
catch Wittysplinter wkh the horse Flyinglegs. 




But in the darkness the giant Sleepyhead 
and his wife Thickasmud stumbled over the 
rope which Wittysplinter had tied in front 
of the castle door, and, splosh ! — they fell 
with their eyes and noses right into the box 
of snuff which he had placed there. They 
rubbed their eyes and sneezed one time after 
another, and Sleepyhead said : *" Your good 
health, Thickasmud." " I thank you," 
answered Thickasmud, and then said : 
"Good health to you, Sleepyhead." "I 
thank you," answered he ; and so on, until 
they had wept the snuff out of their eyes 
and sneezed it out of their noses, and by the 
time this had happened Wittysplinter was 
clear of the wood. 

The bear Honeybeard was the first after 
him, but when he came to the bees' hive the 
smell of the honey enticed him, . and he 
wanted to eat it ; then the bees came buzzing 
out, and stung him all over the face to such 
an extent that he ran back half blind to the 
castle. Wittysplinter had already got some 
distance out of the wood when he heard the 
lion Hendread coming bounding after him, 
so he quickly took the cock out of his sack, 
and when it flew up into a tree and began 
to crow, the lion got so dreadfully frightened 
that it ran back again. 

Now Wittysplinter heard the wolf I,amb- 
snapper behind him. He quickly let loose 
the lamb out of his sack, and the wolf 
galloped after it, and let him ride off in 
safety. He was by this time quite near the 
town when he heard a bark behind him, and 
looking round saw the dog Harescare coming 
tearing after him. Quickly he let loose the 
hare out of the sack and the dog ran after it, 
and he arrived safely in the town. 

The King thanked Wittysplinter very much 
for the horse, but the wicked servants of the 
Court were very much annoyed that he had 
come off with a whole skin. On the follow- 
ing Monday the King mounted upon his 
horse Flyinglegs and rode off to Queen Flosk, 
and the horse galloped so quickly that he 
was there long before any of the other Kings, 
and had already danced several of his 
wedding dances when they arrived. Just 
when he was about to start off home with 
his Queen his servants said to him : " Your 
Majesty has indeed the giant Sleepyhead's 
horse, but how much more splendid it would 
be if you had his clothes as well, which are 

•Notk. —The custom of wishing one "Good Health," after 
a sneeze, prevalent in Germany and other European countries, 
» supposed to have origin in the fact that the crisis, or turning- 
point for better or worse of a certain fever, is indicated by a 
sneeze from the patient, and hence the natural expression of a 
hope for a favourable recovery. 

said to surpass anything that man has*ever 
seen. The clever Wittysplinter would, no 
doubt, very soon bring them to you if you 
commanded him to do so." 

The King was at once possessed with a 
great desire for Sleepyhead's clothes, and 
again gave the commission to Wittysplinter. 
When the latter had started off upon the 
road the wicked servants rejoiced, and 
thought that this time he would surely not 
escape the clutches of the giant Sleepyhead. 

On this occasion Wittysplinter took nothing 
with him but a few good strong sacks. On 
arriving at the giant's castle he climbed up 
into a tree, and lay hid until everyone was in 
bed. When everything had become quiet 
he climbed down again. Just then he heard 
Madam Thickasmud calling out : " Sleepy- 
head, my pillow is very low ; fetch me a 
bundle of straw from outside." Thereupon- 
Wittysplinter quickly slipped into a bundle 
of straw, and Sleepyhead carried him, along 
with the straw, into his room, shoved him 
under the pillow, and then lay down in bed 

As soon as they had fallen asleep Witty- 
splinter packed all Sleepyhead s and Thick- 
asmud's clothes into his sack, and very 
quietly-and very carefully tied it to the tail of 
the lion Hendread; then he tied the wolf 
Lambsnapper, and the bear Honeybeard, and 
the dog Harescare, who were lying about 
asleep, fast to the giant's bed, and opened 
the door very wide. So far he had managed 
everything just as he would have wished, 
but he wanted to take away the giant's 
beautiful bed-cover as well. So he gave the 
corner of it a slight tug, then another, and 
another, and so on, until it fell on the floor. 
He immediately wrapped himself up in it, 
and seated himself on the sack containing 
the giant's ciotnes, which he had tied to the 
lion's tail. Soon the cool night wind began 
to blow through the open door and over 
Thickasmud's legs, and waking up, she cried, 
11 Sleepyhead, you've pulled all the bed-clothes 
off me. I've nothing at all over me." " Thick- 
asmud, you've pulled all the clothes off me? 
and thereupon they began to belabour each 
other, so that Wittysplinter began to laugh 
loudly at them. As soon as they heard 
this they called out "Thieves, thieves! Up 
Hendread ! Up I-ambsnapper ! Up Honey- 
beard and Harescare ! Thieves, thieves ! " At 
this all the animals woke up, and the lion 
sprang forth out of the door. Now Witty- 
splinter, wrapped up in the bed-cover, was 
sitting on the bundle of clothes tied to the 

Uon ' s fefefrft) Wiffe/fft 6 lion be8an 



^y rf^iL-iwi* m*-. 

to run, he was driven along just as if he 

was in a carriage. He began to cry out 

several times " kikriki-ki-kri-ki," just like a 

cock, and the lion got such a fright at this 

that he ran in mad terror 

right up to the gates of 

the city. When quite 

near to the gates, Witty- 

splinter took out his 

knife and cut the string, 

and the lion, who was 

going at such a rate that 

he couldn't stop himself, 

ran his head full bang 

against the gates and full 

down dead. 

The other animals, 
who had been bound to 
the bedstead of Sleepy- 
head and Thickasmud, 
could not get it out of 
the door because it was 
too wide, and they 
dragged it and pulled it 
about the room so much 
that both Sleepyhead 
and Thickasniud fell out, 
and became so angry 
that they beat the wolf, 
the bear, and the dog to 
death, although 
the poor animals 
ically couldn't 
help it. 

When t h e 
watch in the 
city heard the 
noise of the great 
blow which the 
lion had given to the gates, they opened 
them, and Wittysplinter carried the clothes 
of Sleepyhead and Thickasmud in triumph 
to the King, who nearly jumped out of 
his skin with joy, for such clothes had 
never before been seen. There was, among 
other things, a hunting-coat, made of the 
skins of all the four-footed animals, and 
so beautifully sewn together that one 
could see the whole story of Reynard 
the Fox depicted on it. Also a bird- 
catcher's coat, made of feathers from all the 
birds in the world, an eagle in front 
and an owl behind ; and in the pockets 
there were a musical box and a peal of bells, 
which made music just like all kinds of birds 
singing together. Further, there was a 
bathing-dress and a fisherVdress, made from 
the skins of all the fish in the world* sewn 
together so that one saw a whale-hunt and a 

VuLxtii.— 16. 

great catch of herrings on it. Then a 
garden -dress of Madam Thickasmud's, on 
which all sorts of flowers and fruits, salads 
and vegetables, were embroidered. But 
what surpassed everything else 
was the bed - cover ; it was 
made entirely of the skins of 
bats, and all the stars of 
heaven were repre- 
sented on it by 
means of diamonds. 
The Royal family 
were quite dumb 
with astonishment 
and wonder. Witty- 
splinter was kissed 
and embraced, and 
his enemies nearly^ 
exploded with rage 


to see that he had again escaped without 
hurt from the hands of Sleepyhead. 

Even yet they did not despair, and put the 
idea into the King's head that nothing was 
now wanting to his dignity, but that he 
should possess the castle of Sleepyhead itself, 
and the King, who was a very child in these 
matters and always wanted to have whatever 
took his fancy, said immediately to Witty- 
splinter that he wanted Sleepyhead's castle, 
and that as soon as he got it for him he would 
be rewarded, 

Wittysplinter did not take much time to 
think about it, and for the third time ran off 
to the abode of Sleepyhead. When he 
arrived there, the giant was not at home, and 
he heard something in the room crying like 
a calf. Then he looked through the window, 
and saw Dame Thickasmud chopping wood, 
and at the same time nursing a little giant on 




her arm, who was showing his teeth and 
bleating like a calf, 

Wittysplinter went in, and said: "Good- 
day, my great and beautiful, broad, and 
portly dame ! How is it that you have got 
to do so much work and have to nurse your 
child at the same time? Have you no 
maids or grooms ? Where is your husband, 
then ? 3J 

" Ach," said Madam Thickasmud, " my 
husband has gone out to invite all his 
relations to a feast we are going to hold. 
And I have to cook everything for myself 
now, for my husband killed the bear, and the 
wolf, and the dog, that used to help us ; and 
the lion has run off, too," 

"That is certainly very hard lines on you," 
said Witty splinter. " If I could do anything 
to help you I should be only too glad." 

Then Thickasmud asked him to 
chop up four logs of wood into small 
pieces for her; and Wittysplinter took 
the axe and said to the giantess, " You 
might hold the wood for me a mo- 
ment, please," and (he giantess bent 
down and caught 
hold of the wood. 
Wittysplinter raised 
the axe in the air, 
and swish ! down it 
came, and cut 
Thickasmud's head 
off and Mollakopp's 
at the same time, 
and there they lay. 

The next thing 
he proceeded to do 
was to dig a large, 
deep hole right in 
front of the castle 
door, into which he 
threw Thickasmud 
and Mollakopp, 
and then covered 
over the opening 
with a thin layer 
of branches and 
leaves, Then he 
proceeded to light 
up all the rooms of the castle with candles and 
torches, and took a large copper kettle and 
beat upon it with soup ladles. Then he got 
a tin wine funnel, and blew a blast on it just 
like a trumpet, and between each perform- 
ance he shouted, " Hurrah ! I,ong live His 
Majesty the King of Roundabout." 

When Sleepyhead was returning home 
towards evening, and saw all the lights in 
the windows and heard the shouting, he was 
mad with rage, and ran with such fury against 
the door that he fell through the hole covered 
with branches and lay there a prisoner, 
shouting and making a great noise, Witty- 
splinter immediately ran down and threw 
large stones on him, until he had filled up 
the hole. 

And now Wittysplinter took the key of the 
castle and ran with it to King Roundabout, 
who immediately betook himself to the castle 
along with his wife Flosk and her daughter 
Flink, and Wittysplinter, and inspected all 
there was to be seen there. After they had 
spent fourteen whole days if] looking at an 
immense number of rooms, chambers, cellars, 


look - out towers, 
bakeries, furnaces, 
kitchens, wood - stove 
houses, dining-rooms, 
smoking-rooms, wash- 
houses, etc., the King 
asked Wittysplinter 
what he would like as a 
reward for his faithful services. And Witty- 
splinter replied that he would like to marry 
the Princess Flink, if it were agreeable to her. 
The Princess very readily consented, and 
they were married and lived in the giant's 
castle, where they are to be found to this 

by Google 

Original from 


[We shall he glad t& receive C&ntri&uti&ns ta this serf ton, and to pay for such as are accepted*] 

The silver ore of which this brooch is formed was 
found on the estate of Loch, in the Isle of Mull, and 
was made by a linker on ihe estate, in the reign of 
Queen Eliznlieth, about the year 150a It was handed 
down by the ladies of the family to one another, until 
Anna Campbell, lady to Murdoch McLean, who had 


It is pretty safe Lo assume that redeemed British 
paper- money has never been put to such an ingenious 
use as tliis* Here we see an antique-] unking bust of 
George Washington, the first President, made 
entirely from U.S. green tracks redeemed and 
macerated by the U.S* Government at Washington, 
IXC. These busts are sold at the great American 
Exhibitions, this one in particular having been 
bought lor 2s+ (50 cents) at the Centennial Inhibi- 
tion, held at PhiladeSphia in 1876. Ic is estimated 
I hat the alwve bust contains no less 
than 25,000 dollars' worth of re- 
deemed notes, so that countless 
hum hie individuals from Maine to 
California may lie said to possess a 
fortune in one of these busts. The 
green money, when macerated, 
becomes dull gray. 

no male issue, pave it to Isaliella, their daughter, who 
married John Scroyne, Esq., to whom she presented 
it on the day of their marriage. The brooch is of 
circular form, scalloped, and ornamented by small 
upright obelisks, each set with a pearl at the top* In 
the centre is a small crystalline ball, considered a 
magical gem. The top may lie taken off, showing a 
hollow, originally for reliques. It is nearly 5111* in 
diameter, and weighs about a pound, so that it is not 
everyone who can wear it. 



This is a peculiarly interesting 
article of attire intended for no less 
a person than II er Majesty the 
Queen* It is a bonnet of orthodox 
Salvation Army shape, and made 
entirely of tortokscshell ; wherefore, 
one would think it must needs be 
more for ornament than use. This 
costly but inelegant bonnet was 
made specially for the Queen by 
the natives of Navigator's Island, 
but Her Majesty, doubtless realiz- 
ing the true inwardness of the 
present , discreetly handed it over to 
the British Museum, where it may 
always be seen. 




These stirrups are of cast iron, 
painted black and red. The weight 
of i hem is prodigious, being about 
jib, each ; they are 14111. long and 6in. 
wide, and were at one lime much used 
hy l he Daimios, or aristocracy of 
Japan* For handicapping, these stir- 
rups might be found somewhat useful ; 


The nice, bright, intelligent little fellow seen in 
I lie middle of this group has an extraordinary 
story — a story that well illustrates the romance of 
the mission field. One day when the tide was 
out the other four children were playing on the 
sea-shore at Zanzibar, when they picked up a little 
black baby, dripping wet and half dead. They 
ran with their rind to Miss Mills, a well-known 
missionary, and it was afterwards found thai the 
baby had been thrown overljoard from a slave- 
dhoWj because he seemed loo ill to he worth 
the slave - dealer's while to smuggle ashore. 
Miss Mills nursed the little boy back to 
health and strength, and he became the pet 
of her schook The photo, was kindly lent hy 
the Universities* Mission to Central Africa, 

but what object is to be gained hy the 
use of such weighty articles for ordin- 
ary purposes i^ ^omewhal difficult to 
discover— unless weight was supnosed 
to add to the dignity of the Dahnio. 
Made by Chozayernon Nagakuni, in 
1 he early part of the eighteenth 


This beautiful little toy group may be seen in the 
well-known lloruiman Museum at Forest Hill, S-E, * 
and will be pointed out on application to Mr. Quick, 
the courteous curator. The carriage is made from a 
nautilus shell, whilst the other figures — coach ma n, 
attendants j etc.— are fashioned with wondrous in- 
genuity from the claws of the crayfish. Notice the 
reck 1 ess , dissipated demeanour of the coachman, and 
the haughty air with which the footman l>ears 




I' -" ■ V. * . /I „ „ T * 



22. ./^J&* 

L. *^£eL 

^t/ijL&4€y^Jtu - 



Here we have reproduced a very interesting order 19s, lod + per 1U for Rohea ! and 9s. 6d* for the 
sent to a tea -merchant early in the Inst century. humbler Pekoe ! This order was kindly placed at our 
Economical housewives of to- day may very profitably ' disposal by the well-known tea-merchants, Messrs. 
com J sate the document with their own grocers liooks. Dak in & Co,, of St. Paul's Churchyard, E*C. 

From a Photo, bp] 


[B. fiTuttan, Hakwvll. 

1 e I - 

r'don Era- 
fc)iliati y nowl 
Tn early 300 
ryears old, isi 
^verified from! 
r Ash ford - in - the - 
^vVater, as to a duclJ 
Fhaving been seen flyiii^l 
^towards an ash tree ini 
ft hat village, which it en 
Ftered, and from that moment 
Fm y st er bu si y d jsa p pea red . Sh e I 
don is a small linmkl lyint; to thv 1 
Fwest of Bakewell, The duck wcnil 
Pinto the tree in the year [601. Thel 
Tiree was always known as the "Duck^ 
^Tree," and verb ting the road, Having 
become partially decayed at (he bottom, ii 
^was resolved to cut it down. The lower por- 
ion was thrown aside as being useless, bu 
iitely it was resolved to cut it up. Two boar*. 
taken from the centre gave unmistakable evidence 
of the genuineness of the Sheldon tradition about the lost duck. On one side of each of these boards was (he 
perfect form of a full-sized duck. The body measures Sin. across,, and the length, from tail to l*iak, is 21 in. 
There are holes in l>oih boards at the point where the duck's brains would resi, as if these agencies rotted the 
limber* This also occurs where the lights and liver settled. The duck ap pears to have gone head foremost 
into a hole, which was known lo be in the tree, and couldn't get out ag;am;| j n 3 1 from 


> the tree, and 




One of the very many diversions that are practised 
on the frozen lakes at Davos Plau and Sl Moritz - 
two famous Swiss health resorts. Ir is not everyone 
thai can afford a real ice-yacht, such as the one seen 
in the other photo* reproduced on this page ; so the 
gentleman here seen has turned himself into a sort of 
animated ice-yacht. He is skating with a wind -sail 
which he has rigged up himself. The spar is strapped 
to the skaler*s body over his shoulders and round his 


All sorts of sports and games are carried on on the 
ice at SL Moritz, including curling, figure -ska ting, and 
ice-yachting* Our photograph shows a small ice- 
yacht under full sail. It is great fun^ only one requires 
to lie well wrapped up. It needs considerable skill 
to be able lo navigate one of these novel craft properly, 
and to l>eat up against a head -wind — when one pre- 
vails. Of course , there is not at St. Moritz the same 
scope for ice -yachting that there is on the vast 
American lakes, hut still, many ^skippers' 3 attain 
wonderful proficiency and gel over the ice with sur- 
prising rapidity. The ice at St. Moritz, by the way, 
is always kept as smooth as glass, especially the ice of 
the rinks close to the hotels. Skaters don't like the ice- 
yachts, because the latter cut up the ice pretty severely. 

waist. 'I he poles attached to the lower comers of 
the sail he holds in his hands ; and then, leaning as 
it were against the breeze, he glides gently across the 
lake. It is not very often, however, that this sport can 
be indulged in, for there is not much wind in the 


Besides the rinderpest, locusts take a 
prominent place among the curses of South 
Africa* They come in swarms of billions, 
so thick as to olscure the sun like a cloud 
for ten minutes or mure at a time while 
passing. They even enter the houses and 
put a stop to business. Sometimes they 
settle overnight on a field of vast extent, 
and in the morning, when the sun rises and 
shines on their wings, that field will resemble 
a rippling sea of silver. The photograph 
here reproduced shows hnw even the 
telegraph wires in the great gold city of I he 
Transvaal are occasionally covered with 
these terribly destructive insects. 

This object, though not particularly 
striking at first glance, is of very con- 
siderable interest, not only on account 
of iis lieauty as a fine specimen of the 
gTeen jade, now so rare, but also from 
the fact of its representing the price 
paid by cannibals of the Mare Islands, 
Polynesia, for a fat man for eating 

by Google 

Original fmm 






This is an exceedingly interesting and diverting 
pictorial proclamation, showing in four simple 
iab!eauK the amity, peace, and justice accruing 
from the rule of the white man. Beyond doubt, 
Governor Davey conveyed more to the natives of 
Van Diemcn's Land by merely showing these 
pictures than if he had roared himself hoarse every 
day for a month* Von should understand that these 
natives could not read ; and, therefore, one must 
admire the ingenuity that prompted the proclamation 
by pictures. It is all so obvious, so beautiful ! 
Look at No. i. The white man is embracing the 
black ; the children even are hob nobbing in touch- 

ing style ; whilst their mothers are rapturously nursing 
one another's babies. No, z shows the cordial 
meeting and greeting between the Governor and 
the head-man of the black people; the third native 
seems an independent spirit, by the way. The next 
two tableaux are given up to Justice — swift, even- 
handed justice- So swift, indeed, that the murdered 
white has scarce touched the earth when his black 
destroyer is strung up nimbly by one of His 
Excellency's underlings, But that underling can be 
just as nimble in the case of -a white man slaying 
his black brother ; and Governor Davey looks even 
more severe. '^' ' 9 ' n ° ' ' ' ° m 





This picture represents all that remains 
of the glory of William Smith, who, 
1*2 ing possessed of the organ of com- 
Ixiliveness and am ma led by a love of 
glory, enlisted into the 101 st Regiment 
of Foot, At the Battle of Waterloo, a 
cannon-ball carried off one of his legs ; and 
thus commenced and terminated William's 
military career* As he lay wounded on the 
field til 1 tattle, the dog here represented, 
blind m one eye, and having also a leg 
shattered* apparently by a musket shot, came 
and sat beside him, as it were in sympathy. 
The dog became William's prisoner ; and 
when a grateful country rewarded William's 
services by a pension and a wooden leg, he 
slumped aliout accompanied by the d<^g, his 
friend and companion. On the 15th of 
December, 1834, William died. His name, 
never having be»3ii recorded in an extra- 
ordinary Gazette, this memorial, represent- 
ing the dog at a moment when he was ill, 
and reclining against the mattress on which 
his mister died, was painted by Sir Edwin 
Land seer, R.A, 


A short time before Hogarth was seized 
with his fatal illness, he suggested pre pa ring 
this "Tail-Piece." The first idea of the 
picture is said to have arisen while the con- 
vivial glass was circulating round Hogarth's 
own table* He began next day, and con- 
tinued his design with great diligence, ingeni- 
ously grouping everything that could denote the end of 
all things. We see a broken bottle* an old broom, 
worn to the stump ; the butt end of an old musket ; a 
cracked bell ; a bow unstrung ; a crown tumbled lo 
pieces j tow r ers in ruins; the sign -post of a tavern 

called the " World's Fnd " falling down; the moon 
in her wane ; the map of the world burning ; a giblrtt 
falling, the body gone, and the chains which held it 
dropping down ; Phoebus and his horses lying dead on 
the clouds; a vessel wrecked; Time with his hour-glass 

and scythe broken ; a 
shoemaker's last and 
cobblers end ; a to- 
bacco pipe, with the 
last whiff of smoke 
going out ; a play- 1 100k 
opened, with ^Exeunt 
$mne$ " stamped in 
the corner ; an empty 
purse ; and a statute 
of bankruptcy taken 
out against Nature. 
*' So far so good," said 
Hogarth, on review- 
ing his performance ; 
" nothing remains but 
this," and taking his 
pencil, he sketched a 
painter's palette 
broken. "Finis! "he 
then exclaimed, ** the 
deed is done ; all is 
over." It is a very 
remarkable fact, and 
not generally known, 
that Hogarth never 
again took (he palette 
in bis hand, arid that 
he died alwmt a month 
after he had finished 
> this "TaiU Piece. "' 



(""rw^nL'' Original from 



[See pap 136.) 

Original from 

by Google 

The Strand Magazine. 

Vol- xiii. 

FEBRUARY, 1897- 

No. 74. 

The Marquis of the Lofty Mountain. 

By H- A. Rudall. 



HOSE among us who are old 
enough to have been news- 
paper-readers in the early 
sixties will remember the [*ain- 
ful sensation excited in this 
country by the announcement 
that a young English lady, named Evelyn 
Fel brook e, while sketching outside Gibraltar, 
had sud- 
denly been „_ _^ , ^^^\_- - l 
upon by 
Spanish brig- 
ands and 
carried off to 
the moun- 
tains. The 
party of 
friends who 
Miss Fcl- 
brooke on 

this ill-fated expedition into 
Spanish territory could not have 
been many yards distant at the 
time ; nevertheless, they heard 
no cry, and had no reason to sus- 
pect mischief until, returning to the 
spot where she had promised to wait 
for them, they found it deserted. In 
spite of an exhaustive search, no 
traces of the girl were to be found, 
and no inkling of the nature oi the 
misfortune that had befallen her was 
obtained until several days later, 
This came in the form of an in- 
scrawled, anonymous letter, ad- 
dressed to the hotel in Gibraltar. It 
stated nothing but the bare fact of the 
abduction, no clue being afforded 
either to the girl's whereabouts or to 
the identity of her captor. But the 
neatness of the operation, the subse- 
yoi. *iu.-ie 

qucnt silence, the cautious character of this 
preliminary missive, all suggested the master 
hand of a notorious scoundrel — one Caspar 
Sanchez, self-styled " the Marquis," 

Sanchez had a vigilance society of his 
own. The few outsiders who had enjoyed 
the unique privilege of holding converse with 
the "Marquis" differed materially in their 





description of bis personality— some repre- 
senting him to be ft man of tolerable 
education and withal courteous in manner, 
others setting him down as a foul -mouthed, 
unmitigated ruffian. 

Slowly, and with 
the caution born of 
long experience in 
a complicated and 
delicate branch of 
industry, did San- 
chez put forth his 
feelers ; contriving, 
mean while ? to keep 
himself well in the 
background, Pre- 
posterous sums 
were hinted at— 
sums as completely 
beyond Miss Fel- 
brooke's reach as 
the liquidation of 
the National Debt, 
Mysterious emis- 
saries came and 
went ; hole - and - 
corner meetings, 
hedged in by al- 
most superhuman 
precautions, were 
charily conceded ; 
but still negotia- 
tions flagged, and 
still the captive's 
whereabouts re- 
mained enshroud- 
ed in impenetrable 
mystery. The fate 
of Evelyn Fel- 
brooke trembled in 
the balance. 

Another painful 
feature of this case 
was the fact that the 
girl was engaged to 
be married, shortly 
after the date on 
which she had ar- 
ranged to return to 
England* Forty- 
eight hours after 
news of the dis- 
aster reached this 
country, Philip 

lister, her fiance- -a stalwart, high spirited 
young fellow, little likely to let the grass 
grow under his feet was hurrying by express 
train through France to the Spanish frontier, 
and thence to Madrid, There, armed with 


private letters from the Foreign Office, he 
broke the journey for a day, in order to lodge 
his complaint with the higher authorities, 
and to impress upon these the necessity of 

prompt and vigor- 
ous action. He then 
proceeded south- 
wards into Anda- 
lusia in accordance 
with an intimation, 
mysteriously con- 
veyed, that in that 
province, at a time 
and place thereafter 
to be specified, 
secre t n ego t ia t i o n s 
would be opened 
for the ransom of 
the captive English- 
woman. This, as 
he knew, involved 
a meeting between 
himself and the 
11 Marquis," whose 
habit it was to grant 
one appointment 
for such purpose, 
and one only. He 
stayed at Cadiz, 
Seville, Malaga, and 
other southern 
towns, showing 
himself ostenta- 
tiously at theatres, 
hotels, the markets, 
the quays, and 
other places of 
public resort. He 
lounged in the Ala- 
meda s and princi- 
pal squares \ pene- 
trated into the foul 
slums of poorer 
quarters, pressing 
his inquiries high 
and low, scanning 
intently the face of 
every whining beg- 
gar, every suspicious 
passer-by. He even 
inserted cautious 
advertisements in 
the i i ace t as. But no 
one accosted him; 
no sign such as had been promised reached 
him from the " Marquis," Perhaps the con- 
tinued reticence of this worthy was due to 
the well-meant but somewhat ostentatious 

vi 8 ilan itt«» " Guardia 




Civil" With this notion he forsook the more 
populous towns and took to lonely rambles 
in the interior, choosing the wildest and most 
desolate regions, ever on the look-out for 
chance encounters, chance dangers even ; a 
man, in short, with "appointment"' on the 
brain. As week after week passed without 
further sign from Caspar Sanchez, the 
anxiety increased. A silence as of the grave 
rested over the fate of Evelyn Fclbrooke. 
Some people went so far as to suggest that 
the unhappy girl had already died in her 
captivity — in a strange country, among 
ruffians of the vilest type, far away from 
lover> friends, 
and home. 

From time to 
time he was told 
that the "Mar- 
quis" had been 
seen, now in one 
district, now in 
another. In con- 
sequence of one 
of thesje rumours 
— mostly emana- 
ting from the 
imagination of 
his informants— 
Philip shifted his 
quarters to Gra- 
nada, From the 
front window of 
his hotel in that 
place, there was 
spread before 
him a wondrous 
panorama of the 
ancient town, 
crowned by the 
ruined palace of 
the Alhamrid 
monarchy and of 
the white peaks 
of the Sierra Ne- 
vada, dreaming 
in a sky of pro 
foundest blue, 
But neither the 
beauty of the 
scene, nor the 
stirring memo- 
ries associated 
with it, exercised 

their fascination over a mind engrossed by 
one overmastering anxiety. When he turned 
his eyes towards the mountains, across which, 
even in the summer months, came a freshen * 
irtg breath, his thoughts strayed longingly 


and sorrowfully to the dear one he had lost 
When he wandered within the precincts of 
the Alhambra, it was with no tourist's 
enthusiasm, but with a vague hope of being 
watched and followed. 

One morning, unable longer to bear the 
torture of inaction, Philip started for a few 
days 3 journey farther into the interior, taking 
with him, this time, a guide acquainted with 
the caves and passes, the hidden haunts of 
the Gitanos, the poorer villages, and certain 
parts of country long held in evil repute. 
But ill luck was in the air. The day after 
his departure from Granada an old man of 

sinister aspect, 
with only one 
practicable eye, 
limped up to the 
hotel and in- 
quired anxiously 
for the "Ingles." 
On being told 
the traveller had 
flown, he turned 
grumbling away- 
Old Miguel car- 
ried in his pocket 
the very letter 
which Philip was 
awaiting with 
such feverish im- 
patience. This 
curiously- worded 
epistle, signed by 
the " Marquis 7i 
himself, still 
exists- It runs 
as follows : — 

"If Philip 
Jester, friend of 
the girl Evelyn 
Fel brook e, now 
our guest in the 
mountains, still 
desires to buy 
a cask of that 
unrivalled wine, 
grown nowhere 
but on the estate 
of the Marques de Monte Alto, he 
will attend to-night, alone and tin- 
armed, at the tavern a mile beyond 
the village of Puentas> known as 
the i Three Pigeons.* The English- 
man, if acting in good faith, will incur no 
risk. His safe return is hereby guaranteed by 
one who was never known to break his word. 
(Signed) .£ Caspar Sanchez. 

UNIVERMfeif °" te A "°>" 



Thus, owing to a peculiarly untoward 
combination of circumstances, the much- 
longed-for " appointment " miscarried ; and 
one-eyed Miguel, frightened, not without 
reason, at the non-success of his mission, 
returned slowly to the place he came from, 
breathing hard, and muttering as he went, 
" He'll beat me like a dog ! " The oppor- 
tunity of a meeting between Philip and the 
" Marquis " thus missed, was never renewed. 
Nevertheless, an interview did take place, at 
the " Three Pigeons," on the very night and 
at the very hour fixed in the " Marquis's " 
letter to Philip. It is with this interview, 
held under singular conditions, and fraught 
with consequences vitally affecting the fate of 
Evelyn Felbrooke, that the present -story is 

The "Three Pigeons," though described 
by the " Marquis " as a tavern, had long since 
fallen from its original use, and was now little 
better than a ruin. It is not easy to imagine 
how entertainment for man and beast could 
at any time have been in request in this 
solitary region at the foot of a mountain. A 
low, rambling structure of villainous aspect, 
with broken windows and tottering walls, it 
was eyed somewhat askance by the super- 
stitious country folk, and when passing it 
they generally crossed themselves. Had they 
been venturesome enough to explore the 
place, they would have discovered at least 
one room which had not been entirely 
abandoned to the rats and the weather, and 
could even boast a few articles of rough 
furniture. This was a long, lofty apartment, 
entrance to which was obtained by a door 
opening from the courtyard. The ceiling 
was raftered ; the walls displayed coloured 
patches of curiously-variegated patterns, the 
efflorescence of damp and decay. For signs 
of habitation there were a few plain chairs, a 
deal table, a tall wooden press looming 
ghostly in one corner, and in another a heap 
of miscellaneous rubbish, chiefly rusty weapons 
and tattered military garments. Here, on 
the night of the appointment, sat one-eyed 
Miguel mending an old leather saddle by the 
light of a single candle stuck in a bottle — the 
sole illuminant in that stable-like apartment, 
save a charcoal braeier, which stood in the 
middle of the floor, and within a limited 
radius shed a red glow of comfortable 
warmth. - 

There was a break in the fine weather 
usually prevailing at that season of the year. 
The afternoon had been cloudy, and as night- 
fall approached a distant continuous rumbling 

warned old Miguel that a storm was gathering 
in the mountains. Already the wind was 
rising, and as the old man turned from his 
work with a peculiar sidelong jerk of his 
grizzled head, he heard the swish of rain in 
the courtyard. 

"A fine night," he muttered, "for Don 
Caspar's mountain ride. Marquis ? Bah ! 
Sham Marquis, but real king of cut-throats 
and thieves ! " 

Gratitude was the last sentiment reasonably 
to be looked for among veterans in the 
Marquis's service. Old Miguel's missing eye 
had been lost in a skirmish ; his leg disabled 
by a bullet wound. His sole pension, like 
that of other retainers in similar plight, con- 
sisted of an extra allowance of curses and 

" Whistle away," he cried, as the wind 
grew shriller, u but if you pipe the tune I 
should like best to hear, you'll pipe sham 
Marquis, horse and all, straight to perdition 
over the mountain edge.' But, no ! You'll 
whistle in vain. Neither wind nor rain, nor 
all the thunder of the bottomless pit, ever 
stopped the Marquis on his way to an 

The undelivered letter, lying on the table, 
seemed to stare at him unpleasantly. He 
threw the saddle impatiently into a corner. 

"Never mind. To-night, at least, the 
Marquis will have his stormy ride for nothing. 
Worse luck for me — for he'll beat me like a 
dog. Worse luck, too, for that young 
Englishwoman they talk of, still a prisoner 
on the hills. ... A murrain on the Marquis 
and all his crew ! " 

Amid the tumult outside Miguel now 
heard another sound, which brought to his 
one eye the look of a hunted animal. 

" The Marquis's knock 1 When he hears 

I couldn't find the Ingles, he'll murder me — 
string me up to that beam like Pepe last 
year. Oh, brave wind, merry wind, why 
didn't you whistle my tune ? " 

After unbolting the door with shaking 
fingers, he drew back in surprise. Before 
him, instead of his dreaded master, he saw a 
white-faced stripling. Staggering forward with 
half- closed eyes, the youth cried feebly, 

II Help ! Help, good folk ! " It might 
almost be said that he was blown by the 
storm through the doorway into the old 
man's arms. 

" Not the Marquis, after all ; but a young 
fellow lost in the storm ! " 

As the stranger seemed to be in the last 
stage of exhaustion, Miguel carried him out 
of the $emi"darl;nw> eg a chair ne?ir th$ 



l2 7 

table, and surveyed him curiously by the dim 

" I think Tm dying/' said the boy* faintly. 
M Better death in the storm than shelter 

Miguel drew a 
flask from his 
pocket and put it 
to his lips, 

"You have tra- 
velled far?'' He 
answered by a 
feeble nod. 

" Over the moun- 
tains ? ,J 
" Yes," 

" Here. Drink 
again before you 

At the last 
words the wayfarer 
turned to Miguel 
with an imploring 

41 You will not 
— you cannot have 

the heart to " 

"Heart!" echoed 
ths old man, with 
a laugh, "We 
have no hearts 
here. None of us 

Miguel again 
forced him to 
drink, scrutinizing 
him narrowly thy 
while. Suddenly 

he started back with an exclamation, 
" Ho ! Ho ! A woman ! " 
Denial was useless. After a short 
silence the stranger, to whose cheeks 
a slight colour had already returned, 
answered, mournfully: 

" Yes — a hapless Englishwoman 
flying for her life." 
** From justice ? " 

** No. From one of the world's 
vilest criminals and his ruffianly crew." 
One-eyed Miguel thought again fora while, 
and nodded his head, 

" I see ; kidnapped on the mountains," 
Even while he uttered this sentence, 
another thought came to him as in a flash. 

"And yet— and yet," he muttered, "it's 
impossible. Your name?" he asked. 

14 You would not know it. Three days ago 
their chief was called away, I bribed one 
of my gaolers— a woman— and she gave me 

food and this disguise. Since then I have 
tramped the lonely hills, wandered through 
dismal forests anywhere— anywhere — to get 
away from that horrible place ! " 

The old man gave vent to a signifi- 
cant " Ha ! " and grinned half- maliciously, 

"And now, poor fool, you've hurried 

into the lion's den," He sidled nearer 

to her arid whispered in her ear : "Are 

you so anxious, 

then, to see the 

Marquis again ? " 

On hearing that 
name the girl 
sprang up with a 
cry of terror. 

" The Marquis ! 
You know him ? — 
you ! " 

" 111 luck pursues 
you, pretty lady. 
All in this house, 
myself included, 
are his servants 
and slaves. In a 
minute the Mar- 
quis will lie here." 
The girl made a 
hurried movement 
as if to escape ; 
then, falling into a 
chair, she pressed 
her hands to her 

One-eyed Miguel 
became pensive. 
He had followed 
the reports of 
Evelyn Fel brook e's 
abduction and im- 
prisonment with 
something of pro- 
fessional interest 
That this was 
Evelyn Felbrooke 
herself, he no 
longer doubted. 
"The girl," he reflected, "has friends and 
money. The Marquis will beat me like a 
dog." There was, in fact, many an old 
score to be settled between himself and 
Caspar Sanchez, and as he stood contem- 
plating his visitor, a certain notion, dimly 
apprehended at first, began to form itself in 
his aged brain. 

"I need no longer," he said, "ask your 
name. ^f a ffi'l t plfi---Sft untr y * s ringing with 

!t ul^iW.fflite,r sabou ' J ' our - 




self in the Gaceta* 1 got it in the town 

this morning. Listen : f The fate of the 

unfortunate young Englishwoman, Evelyn Fel- 

brooke, who was kidnapped some weeks ago 

by a band of ruffians not far from Gibraltar, 

is causing renewed anxiety, the ransom 

demanded being 

altogether beyond 

the resources of her 

family. Mr* Philip 

lister, who is said 

to be affianced to 

the young lady, has 

just arrived in 

Spain/ " 

" Philip ! Poor 
Philip ! " cried the 
girl, with a sob, 
"Ah, if I could 
find him now !" 

" The very thing 
I was saying to 
myself this morn- 
ing. And he would 
have been here — 
yes, at this very 
moment — if I 
could have deli- 
vered into his 
hands this letter. 
Read for yourself." 
With small cere- 
mony he broke the 
seal of the Mar- 
quis's letter, and 
spread it open be- 
fore her, Evelyn 
read the letter at- 
tentively, and, with 
a despairing ges- 
ture, moved to- 
wards the door. 

" You are right, 
I must go from 
here — at once— at 
onre ! " 

But Miguel 
placed his hand 
upon her arm : 
"Centlv nrettv '* tub marquis himself at 

lady ! n 

'* Do you want to prevent me ? " she 
asked, in a frightened voice. 

With a sly look the old man went as softly 
as his limp would allow to the door 

"That's the tramp of his horse on the 

Evelyn heard it too, and gazed at him 

" Yes," repeated Miguel, looking out 
cautiously. " It's the Marquis himself at 
the foot of the hill You Ye too late," 

Fear seemed to give her fresh strength ; 
she ran towards Miguel with outstretched 
hands. " For the love of Heaven— say, 

quickly — where — 
where can I hide 
from him ? " 

"Hide!" he 
answered, with a 
con tern ptuous 
chuckle, "The 
whole house is a 
hiding - place for 
him and his people 
— and therefore 
none for you— even 
now he's in the 

Miguel became 
suddenly serious ; 
the plan that had 
meanwhile been 
working within the 
recesses of his 
brain now took 
definite shape, 

" Listen to me. 
Another instant 
and he'll be here. 
If you go, you are 
lost ; and you are 
lost if you stay. 
Suppose, now, you 
neither go nor 

The girl stared 
at him. 

"Suppose, I mean, 
you are someone 
else ? Give me all 
your attention, 
pretty lady ; and 
if ever you get 
away from here, 
remember a poor, 
half-blind, ill-used 
old man." He 
pointed to the let- 
ter. "The Mar- 
quis comes to meet Philip Laster, Good. 
There," he said, pointing to the door, " is the 
Marquis, And here," pointing to Evelyn 
herself, "stands Philip I -aster." 

The notion tickled the old man ; he stooped 
with suppressed laughter. " Yes, Ym shall 
take the young Englishman's place, and strike 




Evelyn was so taken aback by this extra- 
ordinary proposal that at first her heart failed 

"Safe conduct to the town, remember," 
urged Miguel. " The Marquis never breaks 
his word. It would ruin his business." 

" But if he discovers me ? " 

Miguel crouched in the corner and rum- 
maged among the pile of rubbish. " Another 
cloak," he said, throwing one over her 
shoulders, ." a tuft on those pretty lips, and 
an extra touch or two will hinder that." 
There was no lack of such paraphernalia in 
that abode of intrigue and chicanery, nor of 
dexterity in applying it, to judge from the 
deftness with which the old man set to work. 
In a few minutes a transformation was 
achieved sufficiently satisfactory to elude 
suspicion, though by no means complete 
enough to defy suspicion should this un- 
luckily be aroused. This done, Miguel 
limped about the room with wonderful 
alacrity, and snatching from the cupboard a 
magnum of wine and two tall glasses, placed 
them upon the table. 

11 Give me the letter," said Evelyn, at length, 
searcely knowing what she did. 

"Courage, pretty lady," said Miguel, 
hobbling to the door. " You have entered the 
lion's den. You shall beard the lion in his 
den ! I go to announce the young English- 
man's arrival." 

A moment later Evelyn was alone. 
" Courage," the old man had said ; and 
assuredly never did she need it more than at 
that moment when she was about again to 
meet that cold-blooded miscreant face to 
face. Evelyn listened to the old man's 
departing footsteps with a strange feeling 
that she had heard them all her life, and that 
they were in some mysterious way connected 
with her destiny. Mechanically and un- 
critically her mind received impressions of 
the grotesque objects around her. She was 
conscious, too, that the "Marquis" had not 
arrived alone, for the clock of horses and the 
oaths of his followers reached her ears from 
the courtyard. Feeling some hard substance 
in the cloak Miguel had given her, she drew 
from it a little silver pistol, and examined the 
strange chasing on the handle. She had 
time to wonder whether it was loaded, and 
whether Heaven had sent it for her protec- 
tion. Soon, without looking round, she felt 
the presence of the Marquis, as he stood in 
the shadow of the doorway. She hid the 
weapon quickly. 

Miguel accompanied his master to the 

Vol, xiiu-17 

11 The young Englishman is there, 
Excellency," he said, pointing to the slight 
figure standing motionless near the table. 
He left the two together, muttering, as he 
went out, "The saints be with you, pretty 
lady, and help you better than they have 
till now ! " 

The man who advanced differed widely in 
personal appearance from the fancy portrait 
usually associated in the popular imagination 
with Caspar Sanchez ; and much of the 
romance connected with this dreaded name 
was apt to vanish at the first sight of a some- 
what squat figure* and coarse-grained though 
regular features, which at one time might 
have been handsome, but now, in middle 
age, carried unmistakable traces of a vicious 
and turbulent past. He was redeemed from 
commonplace by a certain air of authority, 
and by grey eyes of a penetrating, singularly 
disagreeable, expression. As for his reputed 
urbanity, this was too suggestive of a 
reserve of vulgar bluster behind, and too 
manifestly forced, to be persuasive. Never- 
theless, the almost genial air with which 
he approached the stranger contrasted in a 
welcome manner with the kind of reception 

" I owe you, Seiior Ingles, a thousand 
apologies," he began, in perfectly fluent 
English, " The state of these cursed roads 
must excuse my want of punctuality." 

The youth before him hesitated for a few 
moments, and then made the inevitable 

" I presume I am addressing " 

" Don Caspar Sanchez, Marquds de Monte 
Alto, now and ever at your service. And /, 
no doubt, see before me the young English 
gentleman, Mr. — Mr. " 

" Philip Laster, named in this letter from 
yourself." • 

" All in perfect order," said the Marquis, 
glancing at his signature. 

Evelyn spoke and moved with something 
of the imperfect consciousness of a somnam- 
bulist ; listening to the sound of her own 
voice as if it proceeded from some distant 
person. The Marquis continued to survey 
her with curiosity. 

" You are young," he said, at length — "very 
young to be intrusted with so delicate a 

"That, Marquis, concerns the persons I 

"Oh! Don't think I am offended," he 
hastened to add. "On the contrary, their 
selection gratifies *n£ fl -, ,-^t shows that your 
friends recognise in Caspar Sanchez 3 rpan of 



honour, anxious, like themselves, to secure 
the safety of our charming guest." 

" Or prisoner ! " 

The Marquis waved his hand with a depre- 
cating gesture, and began to show unmis- 
takable signs of vexation. 

" Tut, tut ! An unpleasant word ; a word, 
I flatter myself, we may banish from our 
conversation. This is, I know, a delicate 
matter. But we meet to-night as two sensible 
men of the world, to discuss it calmly and 
in good faith." 

" In plain terms," suggested Evelyn, with 
an air of confidence astonishing to herself, 
" to arrange the terms of ransom." 

Again thus early in their conference the 
Marquis seemed to be seriously annoyed. 
Turning with a frown that might have been 
interpreted as a warning, he exclaimed : — 

" Hold ! my friend ! " 

For some moments he puffed his cigarette 
in silence ; but presently resumed with a 
more friendly air. " You have for a second 
time been guilty of a slight indiscretion . . . 
But I pardon the word. See ! I blow it 
away in that curl of smoke." As he spoke, 
a blue ring of tobacco-smoke floated slowly 
upwards towards the rafters. 

" If," said Evelyn, with some trepidation, 
"in my anxiety to hasten the business I 
have unwittingly " 

"You spoke of a ransom, young sir," 
replied the Marquis, with a touch of return- 
ing severity. "The unpleasant position in 
which the young lady still remains ; the un- 
certainty of her fate from day to day — these 
things, believe me, are as painful to me as to 
yourself. But I, like you, am no more than 
an emissary of others. To-night you honour 
me with your presence, I take it, in order to 
comply with the little formality invariably 
observed on these occasions. You come to 
buy, for a price to be agreed upon, a cask of 
this wine." He pointed to the magnum on 
the table. 

" The object is the same," said the youth. 
" The restoration of this lady to her 

" I see but one obstacle to its attainment." 

11 And that is ? " 

" Yourself ! " said the Marquis. 

Clearly their interview was about to enter 
upon a new phase. The grey eyes began to 
take*their most unpleasant expression. 

" I speak frankly, Senor Ingles. It is you 
who render negotiation impossible." 

" I am at a loss to explain," began the 
youth, uneasily. 

" Yet the remark should not surprise you. 

Read again the conditions of this meeting as 
set forth in the very paper now in your hand. 
What do they imply ? Good faith and 
mutual trust." 

The visitor bowed in silence. 

" After all, it is a mere formality. But I 
am a stickler for the proprieties. Before we 
exchange another word I am obliged to ask 
for the custody, the temporary custody, of the 
weapon now in your possession." 

Her heart gave a sudden bound. He had 
seen it, then, after all. 

" I feel sure it will be unnecessary for me, 
under the circumstances, to do more than 
proffer a courteous request" 

Amid an awkward silence, with head 
slightly bent, the youth slowly surrendered 
the weapon. Sanchez examined it with no 
little curiosity. 

" So trifling a matter as this little toy," he 
remarked, "I can quite understand had 
escaped your attention." 

" Yes. I— I had forgotten it." 

" Singularly enough, the sight of this 
ornamental weapon has an especial interest 
for me. In fact, it once was mine." He 
turned to her with a smile. " How long has 
it been yours ? " 

The youth stammered some half-audible 

" I ask the question out of mere curiosity, 
and because this belongs to a pair. I missed 
it some time ago, and supposed it to have 
been stolen. No doubt you found it ? 

"Stay," said the Marquis, fixing his gaze 
upon her. "Let me help you. Wealthy 
English travellers, we know, are constantly 
on the look-out for bargains of this sort 
Say — you bought it ? " 

" In the town — yes." 

The Marquis nodded approvingly. "It 
would be quite impossible for you to offer 
a more satisfactory explanation." 

With a slight bow he placed the offending 
weapon close beside him upon the table; 
desiring, no doubt, it should remain there as 
a reminder to them both of an embarrassing 
incident satisfactorily disposed of. The con- 
tinuous thunder-roll was gradually nearing, 
and outside the rain increased in violence. 
Suddenly mindful of the claims of hospitality, 
the Marquis filled the two glasses to the 
brim, with a rich, amber-coloured fluid. He 
held up his own admiringly to the light. 

"The night is rough. The miserable 
quarters in which I am forced to welcome 
you are not fit to kennel a dog. But while 
we chat, yoa shall sip a wine such as kings 
and emperors may sigh for in vain ! " 



The Marquis did not exaggerate its 
marvellous qualities. When Evelyn — not 
without a possing misgiving — touched the 
glass with her lips, the glorious liquor 
seemed already to revive her sinking 

" Well," exclaimed her host, enthusiasti- 
cally, " may they call it Bottled Sunshine ! 
Older than living man, mellow with years, 
yet luscious with the ardour and sparkle of 
youth — this is, and always will be, the chief 
pride of my life— next to my character, Join 
me, then. Drink to two bright eyes, the 
memory of which even now stirs my heart to 
quicker beats." 

These words produced an effect little 
suspected by the speaker, and it was with 
difficulty that Evelyn repressed her rising 

" Ah, my friend," he continued, "you are 
not the first who has sat in that chair to 
bargain for a cask of the precious 
liquor. Think seriously before you 
bid for what we may truly call the 
Elixir of Life. For does not a 

" You believe our family to be rich — you 
think " 

"Tut, tut, I think nothing. According to 
the protestations invariably made in such 
cases, England ought to be the poorest nation 
in the world." 

"This is monstrous," exclaimed the girl. 
She rose as if about to depart, but the 
Marquis motioned her back, 

M I have something more to say — some- 
thing I would gladly have spared you. But 
you drive me- You drive me." He leant 
forward across the table and spoke very 

" Since starting on my journey — three 
days ago — T have received news of the girl." 

News? Had he heard, then, of her 
escape ? Did he recognise her even 
now ? 

u You force me to be frank- I left her 
safe and well But that last news has caused 


life hang on its purchase ? I see you 
hesitate* Perhaps, after all, the relatives 
scarcely wise to send so young a man 


— Can I help ? Shall I bid for you ? 
Slowly he raised one hand ai 
thousand pounds ! " 

ind cried, « Four 

me grave anxiety, Evelyn Kelbrooke 
is in danger ! ,7 

The proposition was undeniable, but 
something in the speaker's manner im- 
pelled Evelyn to regard him intently. 
"This morning I was horrified at receiving 
from head-quarters— this," He handed her 
gravely a little cardboard box of oblong 
shape. " When told that it was to be handed 
to the @tl^iirffifefiB&p"iI guessed too well its 




" A box ? From her ? " 

" That box I regret — deeply regret — to say 
contains a human finger ! " 

For the first time Evelyn lost self-control. 
She flung the packet from her with a shudder- 
ing cry. 

" Ah ! Villains ! villains ! " 

" I need hardly say that this sad step 
was taken without my knowledge and 

As she sank back in the chair, the room 
spun round, the candle in the bottle grew 
dim. A conviction, however, that to faint 
would be to invite certain destruction, is likely 
to act as a wonderful restorative in such 
situations. Meanwhile, was not the Marquis 
eyeing her in a manner almost to justify her 
former suspicion that he was playing a game 
of cat and mouse ? 

" Believe me, young sir, I sympathize with 
your most natural agitation. Another sip of 
this wine will help you to follow me further." 
He refilled the glass and compelled her to 
drink. "First let me hasten to explain. 
Perhaps I ought to have done so earlier. 
This little packet is sent as a warning — a 
threat, if you will — but nothing more. Rest 
assured on my word, the word of a man of 
honour, that Evelyn Felbrooke, up to the 
present time, has suffered no harm." 

"But that— that?" stammered Evelyn, 
pointing to the thing on the floor. 

"There," said the Marquis, with a curious 
smile, "you trench upon the secrets of the 
prison house. But let us return to our 
matter. Once more in the new, I may say 
the terrible, light just thrown upon the situa- 
tion, I await your bid for a cask of this wine 
.... And while the devil is playing out of 
doors with his match-box and tinder, remem- 
ber—a Life is at Stake ! " 

A vivid flash illuminated the room ; and, 
for the first time, the thunder burst im- 
mediately over their heads with a deafening 
crackle, followed by a clank as of Vulcan's 
hammer, a hissing of angry torrents, and 
another sound like the jingling harness of 
frightened horses. Next morning the lower 
parts of the district were found to have been 
flooded. Within a few yards of the house a 
huge fir tree, charred and splintered, lay 
across the path. 

The scene inside the "Three Pigeons " im- 
mediately after the detonation was a strange 
one. The Marquis had raised one arm high 
above his head, and there he sat, and with 
an impudent grin of triumph, as if to suggest 
that he, Caspar Sanchez, commanded the 
battalions of the sky. His figure seemed to 

grow larger, and the red glow of the brazier, 
falling full upon him, helped to complete the 
Mephistophelian effect. 

In front of the Marquis the youth, resting 
his chin on his hands, leaned forward across 
the table and regarded him long and thought- 
fully, till the last after-roll had reverberated 
and died away in the vast rotunda of the 

The sound of the Marquis's voice awoke 
Evelyn from her reverie. 

" The thunder has made you pensive, 
young sir. So much the better. You do 
well to take time before making another bid. 
For my part, I could almost wish you would 
never bid at all." 

" Why ? " 

At that moment a man's voice, singing to 
the thrum of a guitar, was heard above the 
storm. The barbaric tune, proceeding ap- 
parently from one of the colonnades, was 
delivered in the nasal sing-song peculiar to 
the country people of those parts. 

" You hear that blockhead, Bartolo, making 
night hideous with his sentimental ditties? 
Now, when I listen to that wretched tinkle, I 
am lifted high above the world and its sordid 
cares. I soar into the land of dreams, and 
am happy. Ah ! You smile. You colder 
English are slow to believe that romance, 
poetry, music, the glamour and passion of 
love, may thrill the heart of even Caspar 
Sanchez, Marques de Monte Alto ! " 

The fellow drank again. 

" Croak away, love-sick scarecrow. Croak 
away ! You've caught Caspar Sanchez in one 
of his weaker moods. Again his thoughts 
fly back to the mountains, and to the one fair 
English face. But pardon me, young sir. 
This idle talk will have scant interest for 

Presently the singing ceased ; and the 
Marquis, observing his companion's continued 
silence, took an almost apologetic tone. 

" 1 know how strange all this mtist sound 
to you. But, truth to say, that infernal 
quavering yonder revived such tender 
memories that, if he hadn't stopped, I 
think I should have slit the scoundrel's 

"Meanwhile," said Evelyn, at last, "we 
wander from our business." 

" You recall me to my senses. A truce to 
sentiment. I blow this kiss to the mountains. 
But before we come down to the hard, cruel 
facts of life, drink again ; drink with me to 
Evelyn, the beauteous Evelyn, queen of mv 




The wine was potent^ and the cheeks of 
both had become flushed. Seldom, surely, 
was a more singular drinking bout. For 
Evelyn, perhaps, it was fortunate that her 
host's appreciation 
of his own sample 
saved her from the 
awkward conse- 
quences of a too 
pressing hospitality. 
As for Sanchez, he 
was too well- sea- 
soned a tippler, and 
also too wary a 
diplomatist, to risk 
muddling his brain 
at a time when im- 
portant business 
was at slake. 

* ( Still silent ? " 
he said. " Shall I 
come once more to 
the rescue ? See. 
I bid again." Then 
he raised one hand 
as before, and cried, 
" Five thousand ! " 

For the moment 
Evelyn did not rea- 
lize the drift of this 
fresh piece of 
audacity. Neverthe- 
less, she was pru- 
dent enough to 
abstain from useless 

"To-night," the 
Marquis observed, 
** our market seems 
to be rising by leaps 
and bounds. You 
alone can check its course. You ask me 
how ? Simply, my friend, by doing what 
you might have done at first : by closing the 
bargain. Believe nw, our conversation is 
now taking a serious turn," 

There he spoke the truth. No sooner had 
the youth hinted at the necessity of consult- 
ing with his friends than the Marquis rose, 
cold, composed, and determined. 

"It seems to me, young sir, that we have 
been wasting precious time." 

It was an entire change of front The air 
of mock geniality with which Sanchez had 
occasionally enlivened the earlier proceed- 
ings was now entirely abandoned. Making 
a formal bow, he said, significantly : — 

" I, too, must consult my friends," and then, 
without further parley, stalked out of the room. 


Left alone for a second time, Evelyn had 
ample leisure to reflect upon the unexpected 
course this interview had taken. The sense 
of impending danger, and of her own de- 
fenceless position, 
was heightened 
when, pressing her 
face close to the 
little side window, 
she looked out 
upon the courtyard. 
The storm was fast 
rolling away. A 
momentary gleam 
of moonlight fell 
upon the dripping 
courtyard, but was 
obscured an instant 
after by flying 
clouds that chased 
each other in 
furious haste, to 
join another fray in 
some far-off battle- 
field* Outside she 
descried the Mar- 
quis himself, sur- 
rounded by a 
motley, gesticulat- 
ing group, and she 
rightly divined that 
the consultation 
had already begun. 
touched her shoul- 
der ; and, turning 
round, Evelyn was 
startled to see be- 
fore her one-eyed 
Miguel Perking his 
head like some foul 
bird, the old fellow whispered, hoarsely : 
"They're hatching treachery, pretty lady!" 
and quickly disappeared by what means of 
egress she was unable to explain. With a 
vague feeling that the net was slowly but 
surely closing round her, she awaited the 
return of her persecutor. 

The conference was a long one. When at 
last the Marquis reappeared, Evelyn saw at 
once that the crisis had come. He no 
longer offered her a seat ; and himself 
remained standing* Passing the table, he 
pushed the glasses a little aside, as if to 
intimate that that part of the matter was at 
an end. His observations were now ctrrt 
and to the point 

" I have a few questions to ask you." 

ftmfefrS- -i*ffirmfc.^j she was of the 



exact' relations between Philip Laster and 
the Marquis, of the places her lover had 
lately visited, the steps he had lately taken 
to obtain her release, the very suggestion 
filled her with dismay. Evidently the interro- 
gatories had been carefully prepared, and 
between each Sanchez made a short turn up 
and down the room, taking time, apparently, 
to formulate them in precise terms that had 
been agreed upon. 

" I assume that you bring an authority, 
duly signed by this girl's relations, to act on 
their behalf ? " No, but it would be forth- 
coming at the proper time. 

" Now," rejoined her interlocutor, " is the 
proper time, and the only time." 

Means of payment : What had he ? In 
what way was this to be assured ? He could 
only stammer in reply that all promises 
would faithfully be fulfilled. The vagueness 
of this answer did not fail to arrest the 
Marquis's attention, and each moment his 
manner became more disconcerting. Stop- 
ping in his walk, he remarked, as if thinking 
aloud : " Not such a guileless stripling, after 

In her agonizing anxiety to end the inter- 
view, Evelyn again made a move to depart. 
" Early to-morrow you shall hear from me," 
she said. 

"Not so fast, young sir," interposed the 
Marquis, raising his hand. 

In her desperation, she turned upon him 
almost defiantly. "Till then, Marquis, I 
claim of Caspar Sanchez, the man of honour, 
the man who has. never broken his word, safe 
conduct to the town ! " 

" If I so choose," said the other, with the 
shadow of a smile. "I might ask who 
violated the conditions : you or I ? Read 
them again. ' Alone, unarmed ' . . . . And 
you " — here he shrugged his shoulders — 
" prate to me of honour ! " 

The Marquis's next words were somewhat 
less alarming. 

" Don't misunderstand me. Let that little 
incident be forgotten. I ask to continue our 
conversation for a short time longer, with 
quite another object." He added, with sudden 
gravity : " If the proceedings of to-night 
should turn out to have been a blind, a 
premeditated farce, a dishonourable attempt 
to pry and equivocate, then, indeed, you will 
have wasted the most precious moments of 
that unhappy girl's life." 

During the questions that followed, Sanchez 
ceased to pace the floor, but, standing 
motionless, held her fast under the spell of 
those unpleasant grey eyes. 

" After that long interview with my mes- 
senger at Cordoba you made, I think, certain 
representations ? " 

She answered with a faint " Yes." 

" And — let me see — you stayed at Cordoba 
about a week ? " 

At this question Evelyn staggered as if he 
had struck her. Sanchez was about to test 
her knowledge of her lover's past movements. 

" Pardon my stupidity," he said, with a 
smile, " of course, as we both know, I ought 
to have said Malaga." 

Struggling like a bird in the fowler's 
mesh, Evelyn whispered a scarcely audible 

The Marquis again smiled. He knew well 
that, from him, Philip I^aster had received no 
messenger, either in Cordoba or Malaga. 
But who, then, was this young fellow, and why 
did he come here ? Was he a spy ? Was 
this a trap set by the authorities ? Far as 
ever from divining the real truth, he found in 
the presence of that youth — unprimed with 
plausible answers to even the simplest ques- 
tions — matter of utmost perplexity. 

Then followed the most terrible quarter of 
an hour in Evelyn's life. Compared with the 
anguish of that ordeal, all her previous suffer- 
ings and alarms sank into insignificance. 
The Marquis had an easy task, and seemed 
to prolong the cross-examination with a mali- 
cious enjoyment. He forced her to lie for 
the pleasure of watching her confusion ; 
made her describe places she never had 
visited, journeys she never had made. He 
tempted her to recount impossible incidents, 
to recite the contents of non-existent letters, 
and, playing upon her bewildered faculties as 
upon a musical instrument, caused her to 
enmesh herself ever deeper in an inextricable 
tangle of names, dates, places, and events. 
Almost from the first, she saw that she was 
lost ; that her struggles were the hopeless, 
half -mechanical struggles of a drowning 
person. Beads of perspiration stood upon 
her forehead, while, with leisurely interest, 
Sanchez watched her agony, and listened to 
the incoherent phrases, the stammering, the 
almost idiotic gibber, into which she gradually 
fell under the strain of that terrible inquisi- 
tion. Her senses wandered at last ; she 
stood gasping before him, with a foolish look 
in her eyes, as if to ask him for help, and 
stretching wide her arms uttered a long, 
piteous cry. 

The immediate discovery of that other 
fatal secret which would have doubly sealed 
her doom v©pjr delayed by an unexpected 




Old Miguel, limping quickly into the room, 
with panic-stricken face, announced the 
arrival of a visitor, (t He will take no refusal/' 
said the old man. The arrival of a stranger 
at so late an hour set the Marquis reflecting, 
" He says yon will find the name there,' J 
added Miguel, handing him a folded paper. 

courage which redeemed his nature from 
utter contempt. He grasped the situation at 
a glance. Whoever this lad might be, the 
real Philip^ it was clear, had now come upon 
his track. The house would be surrounded ; 
already his ragged crew, chattering noisily in 
various dialects, were hurrying to and fro in 


Caspar opened it hurriedly, and in his 
astonishment read aloud, " Philip Laster," 
Did fancy play him a trick, or was it an echo 
of his own voice that gasped, almost at the 
same time, " Philip " ? He darted a look of 
fresh suspicion in the direction of the young 
Englishman and noted his agitation. But 
Miguel had further news to impart; news 
which he had kept for the last, not, it 
appeared, out of any friendly consideration 
for his master's feelings. "I think there's 
mischief abroad ! The stranger has brought 
with him a troop of the Civil Guard." 

Having launched his thunderbolt, old 
Miguel, deeming it prudent to give Sanchez a 
wide berth, quickly made for the door, To 
say that the Marquis, at that critical moment, 
experienced any kind of fear, would be to 
deny him the credit of that one quality of 

the courtyard. Whatever might happen to 
them, his own safety was assured. The Civil 
Guard, it is true, were upon him— but not 
for the first time ; and so practised a 
strategist was scarcely likely to have neglected 
ample provision for such an emergency. But 
before accomplishing his subterranean exit, 
something remained to be done. As he stood 
face to face with the false Philip I^aster, the 
youth who for some unknown reason had 
laid this trap for his destruction, there was 
that in bis countenance which had proved 
the death-warrant of many a helpless prisoner* 
Some shots were fired ; one rascal managed 
to climb the roof and, scampering overhead, 
nearly thrust his foot through a hole in the 
rotten rafters. Sanchez, preserving his cool- 
ness, drew something from his belt ; but when 
he tUN4i^FcM^^C^&^H4*jAHrprises were in 



store for him. First, the feel of cold metal 
pressed firmly against his forehead ; the cause 
of which he speedily understood. Her wits 
sharpened by mortal fear, Evelyn had 
snatched from the table the forgotten silver 
"curiosity," and now held her finger upon 
the trigger. Secondly, a wonderful change 
in the appearance of the young Englishman 

There was one silent witness to this scene, 
whose presence in the room can only be 
explained by his perfect knowledge of the 
peculiar construction of the Marquis's retreat. 
This was old Miguel, who out of curiosity, or 
impelled by some other motive, had crept 
back and concealed himself in a shadowy 
corner. From the description afterwards 
given by him, mostly in grotesque panto- 
mime, it was easy to gather that in this 
moment of supreme peril the girl was 
splendid. By some bold inspiration, she 
had quickly discarded her disguise, and her 
natural hair, released from its imprisonment, 
now fell in golden clusters upon her shoulders. 
Erect, flashing defiance, beautiful in the flush 
of excitement, she fronted her enemy, and 
held him at bay. He recognised her at 

u The girl herself ! " he muttered, between 
his teeth. All her long-repressed indignation, 
all her scorn and loathing of the man before 
her, were concentrated in her next words — 

the last ever addressed by her to Caspar 
Sanchez, Marques de Monte Alto : — 

" The girl you thought in your power has 
escaped. The Civil Guard are even now at 
your door. Yes ! Cowardly insulter of 
women ! Assassin ! Thief ! Cur ! / told 
you we should meet again I " 

Thus she held him while the noise outside 
increased, and until rough, eager hands 
seized the Marquis from behind, and dragged 
him down. While they were pinioning him, 
a well-known figure darted forward, and a 
moment later Evelyn, with an hysterical 
sob, flew into her lover's arms. Whatever 
sympathetic feeling this spectacle may have 
inspired in the breasts of many of the rough 
specimens of humanity now gathered around 
them, one, at any rate, was occupied with 
wholly different reflections. In the opinion 
of Miguel, this prolonged embrace, at a time 
when so many matters demanded attention, 
was, to say the least, inopportune. Failing 
to attract their attention by other means, he 
approached Evelyn and twitched her sleeve. 
Then, relapsing into the professional beggar's 
whine acquired by long practice at church 
doors and market places, he stretched forth 
an open palm, and, as if repeating a lesson, 
called out, in piteous, nasal tones : — 

"/was the first to tell them. Old Miguel 
showed them the way, pretty lady ! " 

by Google 

Original from 

Illustrated Interviews. 


By William G. FitzGerald. 

T is not usual to associate with 
the learned societies stories of 
weird adventure, and romance 
more strange, more thrilling 
than the wildest flights of 
fiction ; but the magnificent 
Institution in Savile Row is the striking 
exception that goes to prove the rule. To 
realize this, it is only necessary to recall the 
marvellous exploits of such men as Schom- 
burgk, Ross, Layard, 
Livingstone, Earth, 
Burton, M 'Clintock^ 
Franklin, Speke, Grant, 
Cameron, Baker, 
Stanley, Thomson, 
Greely, Emin Pasha, 
Selous, Littledale, 
Nan sen, and many- 
others whose names will 
be found recorded in 
the list of Gold Medal- 
lists in the entrance- 
hall of the Royal Geo- 
graphical Society, 

When a man is about 
to explore remote and 
unknown parts of the 
earth, he comes to the 
R.G.S. for a little coach- 
ing in methods of ob- 
servation ; and the 
moment he has returned 
from the wilds, the very 
first thing he does is to 
read a paper before 
that appreciative body. 
From this, then, some 
slight notion of the fascinating romance attach- 
ing to the Society may be obtained ; but I 
hope to demonstrate conclusively, even in 
this brief sketch, that the R.G.S. is the most 
interesting institution in the world, 

The distinguished President, Sir Clements 
Markham, K.CH, KR*S + , whose portrait 
appears on this page, is well known as the 
leading British geographer and a voluminous 
writer on many subjects. My interview with 
him took place at the Society 5 s head-quarters 
in Savile Row, He is a Yorkshireman, born 
at Stillingfleet in 1830, At fourteen he joined 


(President of the Royal Geographical S^iety.) 
From a Photo, by Th* Van /Jer W'r^lt Light. Hrj*ttf StwK 

others. It may 
these autograph 

the Navy, and although his slay in that 
branch of the Service was short, yet he had 
plenty of stirring adventures, such as hunting at the SdtotefjhB hle&lfefjiiarters 

the Riff pirates in the Mediterranean. A 
few years later, we find young Markham 
going to the Arctic regions, with Austins 
expedition, in search of Franklin ; and on 
his return he passed his exam, for lieutenant, 
and then left the Service* That was in 1 85 1 . 
The next phase of Sir Clements' career 
was his work in Peru, where he went to study 
the language, explore the ruins, and search 
for antiquities. But his greatest achievement 
was certainly the intro- 
duction into India of 
die cinchona plant, with 
the result that the price 
of quinine — most in- 
dispensable of drugs to 
so j our n er s in tropical 
lands — gradually fell 
from the prohibitive 
guinea an ounce to a 
shilling, or even less. 
In 1854 Sir Clements 
joined the R.G.S-, in 
1862 he became secre- 
tary, and held that posi- 
tion for twenty - five 
years, receiving the gold 
medal on his retire- 
ment He became 
President in 1894, 

The R.G.S. possesses 
a museum of interesting 
objects, besides a col- 
lection of original auto- 
graph maps by General 
Gordon, Livingstone, 
Grant, Speke, Baker, 
Littledale, Curzon, and 
well be imagined that 
maps are fascinating to 
contemplate, by reason of the extraordinary 
circumstances under which they were pre- 
pared. Mr. St. George Littledale, for 
example — virtually alone in the untrodden 
wilds of Tibet (his only companion being 
his almost prostrate but plucky wife) —never 
failed to work at his map-making every night, 
notwithstanding the piercing cold, which 
caused his frozen fingers to stick to the 
brass mountings on his instruments. 

But poor Sir John Franklin's Admiralty 
certificate, which is next reproduced, is 
perhaps the most interesting thing to be seen 

It was found 

Vol xiii.-ia 


*3 8 


Sr^r^r^^ ~*^?Ff **™*f 



*yp &ZJy*p> 

J zypf i^ 184? 

* ' •rbj^cz*. 


4 "i Whoever finds this paper is requested to forward it to the Secretary of • 
fj ,/^jx tlie Admiralty, London,, with a note of the ttrntr and place at which it was 
' J^* fwtiul: or t if more convenient, to deliver it for that purpose to the British 
w Jw *3 Consul at the nearest Port* J 

Qu iNC on que trouverajjipipicr est prie" d*y marque r Le teens et lieu ou ^ 
il 1'aura trouve* et de le fairt^unrenir an pkitot au Secretaire de I'AmtTflUt£% N ^ 
BriLannique a Londres. lH> 

Cm aujuieka quchallare este Papel, se le supliea de enviarlo al Secretar 
del AJmirantazgu, en Londr&, con una nwta del tiempo y del lujpr e 
donde se hallo*. 


Een ieder die dit Pa 
wive, ten spoedigste, 
Ltine der Nederlanj 
rifcsche Admiral keii 
f T J?Cjjihoudende de tvd en 

wordt hiermeoje venogt om hi 
aan den Heer Minister van dfef 
;e, of wel aan den Sc Cretans di 
daat by te voegen eene Nota,* 
.lit Papier is gevynden gewordenf^Tj ^-J &S 

af dette Papiir ombedes, naar Leilighed gives, at sende 
samme til Admiralttets Secretaires i London, eller ncermeste Embedsmand* 
f^ i Danmark, Norge* eller Sverrig. Tiden og St^dit hvor dctte er fimdet^ 
onskes venskaMigt paategneL 

V&JSfi^ TNtt diesen Zettel 

ecretair des Admiral^ 
[welch en ort und au 


-durch ersucht dcnselben an denJJ 
Auseadcn, mit gefklliger aiigabe j 
fondet word en isr _J 








I-'KANKI-IS K\l Kl>[ TIilN. 




l-OST-Or b ICE. CAIN-^ IN TUti I'UI-AK HKtiluSS, MAD!-. uh l-.MJ'LV Mk.VI-TJ.N 

among the stones of a big cairn by Sir 
Leopold M'Clintock's search expedition of 
1857. The paper, which is stained with rust 
spots, was contained in a tin case, and is, in 
fact, the record of the long-lost expedition. 

Besides Franklin's own notes— and, by the 
way, he was a Vice-President of the R + G*S + 
-—much additional information is given round 
the margin of this 
historical docu- 
ment : il Sir John 
Franklin died on 
the nth June, 
1847 ; and the 
total loss by deaths 
in the expedition 
has been to this 
da.te 3 nine officers 
and fifteen men, 3 ' 

In order that it 
may be fully un- 
derstood what a 
cairn is, I repro- 
duce here a singu- 
larly interesting 
one, erected by 
the Xares Arctic 
Expedition of 
1875-6- This is 
a "post -office if 
cairn, established 
at the winter 
quarters of the 
D iscovery in 

August, 1876. It 
is built entirely 
of empty meat 
tins. Records are 
frequently left in 
these cairns; provis- 
ions, too, are buried 
under them ; whilst 
others are erected 
for survey pur- 

I imagine the 
K.G.S. possesses 
the most interesting 
collection of photo- 
graphs in the world. 
The traveller's Alma 
Mater is not neg- 
lected ; her fellows 
are always in touch 
with her whereso- 
ever they may be, 
and they delight in 
adding to her 
already unique 
collection photographic records of the 
wonderful sights they behold at the ends of 
the earth. 

The next photo, shown was also taken 
during the Arctic Expedition of 1875-6. 
The precipice depicted was near the spot 
where the Discovery took up her quarters 
for the winter, and the official description 


S 1 





beneath the view tells us that " the smooth 
face of the rock is pure coal" 

The very evolution of the Royal 
Geographical Society was of peculiar interest. 
I say M evolution iJ instead of "inception," 
for the Society grew out of the Raleigh 
Club, founded in 1826 by Sir Arthur 
Broke. According to this gentleman's 
original scheme, the world was to be 
mapped out into so many divisions, corre- 
sponding with the number of members, so 
that the Society collectively should have 
visited nearly every part of the known globe. 

The dinner given at the first regular 
meeting was a remarkable function — mainly 
by reason of the out- 
landish "wittles." Sir 
Arthur Broke himself 
contributed a haunch of 
reindeer venison from 
Spitsbergen ; a jar of 
Swedish brandy; rye 
cakes baked near the 
North Cape ; a Norway 
cheese; and — by way of 
d es sert— some prese r ved 
cloudberries from Lap- 
land. A ham from Mexico 
next figured on the festive 
board, as also did a loaf 
made from wheat brought 
by the donor from Hesh- 
bon t on the Dead Sea. 
Food for reflection, truly. 
The Raleigh Club was 
the immediate forerunner 
of the Royal Geographical 
Society. The original list 
of members of the latter 
contained 460 names, and 
the last original member 
died in 1896, To-day, 
the R,G,S. has nearly 
4,000 Fellows. The 
library contains nearly 70,000 volumes and 
pamphlets, and the map-room, 120,000 
sheets of maps (inel tiding atlases') and 
about 12,000 photographs. 

The histories of the various expeditions 
promoted or encouraged by the Society is one 
long series of marvellous, magnificent records, 
commencing with Bumes's amazing journey to 
Bokhara, and Chesney's survey of the 
Euphrates in the thirties, right down to 
Nansens world famous expedition to the 
Polar regions. The infinite care and patience 
exercised by the heroes of the R.G.S. are 
well exemplified by the eminent Indian 


{Secretary of the Royal Geographical Society,) 
from a Photo, hjf J, TAj-juiahi. 

officer surveyed Kashmir and the mighty mass 
of mountains up to the frontier of Tibet 
He took observations from peaks 20,000ft. 
above the sea, yet his accuracy was so 
wonderful, that in a circuit of 890 miles only 
a discrepancy of 8- roths of a second in 
latitude and i-ioth in longitude was found. 

Another adventurous traveller mentioned 
in the Society's roll of honour was Dr. 
Arminius VambeVyj a Magyar (the R.G.S. is 
catholic in its scope), who in 1S65 penetrated 
to Khiva in the disguise of a Dervishj and 
thence through the deserts of the Qxus to 
Bok h ara and Sa ma r ka nd . Livingstone's 
connection with the Society is well known ; 
his sextant may now be 
seen in the museum at 
Savile Row. 

The present secretary 
of the Society^ Mr. J, 
Scott Keltie, is peculiarly 
well fitted for the posi- 
tion, which calls for an 
en cy clopredi c know ledge 
of men and things and 
places. Almost the very 
first thing returned 
travellers do on arriving 
in England is to seek 
Mr. Keltie^s office ; from 
which it may be inferred 
that the secretary's work 
i.s more than interesting, 
apart from its arduous 

Let me recall the cir- 
cumstances of my own 
visit The man who has 
just gone in to Mr, Keltie 
has been delimiting some 
unsettled boundary of the 
Amir's dominions, and he 
wants to arrange with Mr. 
Keltie about reading a 
paper on the wild places and peoples 
bordering on Afghanistan. Waiting below 
is a disappointed traveller, who failed 
to reach Lhasa, the mysterious sacred 
city of Tibet ; and whilst waiting for an 
interview with the secretary, he enters into 
conversation with another occupant of the 
waiting-room f who, having done some good 
business for a pearl-fishing company in ihe 
Torres Strait, took it into his head that he 
would like to cross the broadest part of New 
Guinea, where no white man had ever been 

Then, perhaps, the two men will pass on 

surveyor, Capt. T. G. Montgomerie. This the stair Str'rWAft*! JMtfftton, the scourge of 

Bigiiizet Dy v.*uugj t UNIVERSITY OF MICHIGAN 



slave traders, yet the daintiest of Central 
African heroes, who has his table spread in 
the wilderness with immaculate napery. Sir 
William Martin Conway will turn up a little 
later for a chat about Spitsbergen, and may 
encounter Colonel Trotter, just home from 
the source of the Niger, or the veteran Sir 
Erasmus Qmmanney, who has come in to 
talk about Nansen. A wonderfully interesting 
place, the R.G.S. head-quarters. 

Mr Kettie, on geographical impostors, is 
more than entertaining. Here is a pen- 

some faint idea of the extraordinary sights 
witnessed by travellers in various parts of the 
world — strange customs and marvellous 
natural phenomena. 

As to queer customs, the accompanying 
photograph surely illustrates one of these. It 
li one of a set presented by the Geographical 
Society of Finland, and it shows how a newly- 
married girl has to pay homage to her 
mother-in-law. One doesn't quite know 
whose house it is in which the ceremony is 
taking place ; presumably it belongs to the 


PilCTIIfiR-IN-l A IV. 


picture of a little comedy enacted quite 
recently in his office. Enter a cultured 
gentleman from Scandinavia, Known Nor- 
denskjtild, Andree, Nansen — thought he 
would just call and pay his respects, as he 
was in town. Chats for a long time, and 
then "llrarmc! What a muddlfl I'm in 
about that cheque— been expecting it these 
three days. Mr, Keltic -ah— I donH like 
asking you; but c&uld you, as a favour, lend 
me , . . ." and so on. 

This turned out to be the very gentleman 
who posed as l)r, Nansen 's brother In 
Edinburgh, and to whom a citizen of that 
classic city was about to give a big dinner. 
The detectives heard of the gentleman, how- 
ever, and the gentleman heard that the 
detectives had heard of ///w, so he didn't 
wait for the dinner. 

The photographs reproduced in this sketch 
of the Royal Geographical Society give 

mother-in-law, a lady of unamiable aspect 
The Utter h deplorable, but probably it is 

As to the wonders of Nature witnessed by 
those who look upon the R.G.S. as their 
head quarters t what can be more impressive 
than the giant trees of California ? Two 
unique photos, from the Society's collection 
are here reproduced, which give a really 
adequate idea of the vast size of these trees. 
In the first we are looking through two of 
the giants at a huge domed building, which 
has been built on the stump of one of the 
trees. Of course, this building is dwarfed 
in the photo, by the enormous trunks in the 
foreground ; but look at the second photo., 
which shows the interior of the structure. 
The floor is, of course, the top of the tree- 
stump, and who shall say that a county ball 
could not be. given in this most extraordinary 





I may say hen. that tin 1 R..CS. is not 
merely the head-quarters of geographical 
science in Great Britain ; it is virtually the 
head-quarters for the whole world. Its 

h r: i" i-: k it k i » to a in* vi-:, 

awards are eagerly sought after by foreign 
explorers, and here are a few names from its 
long roll of heroes: "Baron C. von der 
Deeken — founder's medal — for his two geo- 
graphical surveys of the lofty mountains of 
Kilimanjaro, The Pundit Naiti Singh — 
patron's medal for his great journeys and 
surveys in Tibet, and along the Upper 
Brahmaputra, during which he determined the 
position of Lhasa. Dr. (ju*tav Nachtigal 
founder's medal for his great journey through 

the Eastern Sahara, during which he 
explored the previously unknown 
regions of Tibcsti and llaghirmi.' 1 
And lastly we have lh\ Nansen, 

There is no more interesting depart- 
ment in this great institution than the 
one presided over by Mr, John Coles, 
who left the Navy at the close of the 
Russian War. It is Mr. Coles who 
coaches intending travellers, and 
among his more famous pupils may 
be mentioned Joseph Thomson, Mr, 
Littledale, and the Right Hon. G. N. 
Curzon. Practical demonstrations are 
carried out in the observatory on the 
roof of the building, and also on 
Mitcham Common, near Mr. Coles J s 
own residence. 

In the great map-room — which is 
subsidized by Government Mr. Coles sits 
nearly all day, at the mercy of people who 
want to know things* Like his able 
colleagues, Mr. Coles is a very mine of 
information. And he has need of 
his extensive knowledge. The map- 
room being open to the public, the 
curator naturally receives some strange 
visitors, "I get," he said, "both 
verbally and by letter, a great number 
of inquiries respecting the climate of 
of various regions. Insurance com- 
panies, even, write to say that they 


MK. JOHN CULfct*. 

(Curator of the Map-room), 

ft-Din 4i Pht*tu. Itffihe LttiUiun ^fVreOKtijpK Cbu'jrfiHjr. 

are about to issue a policy for some big 
amount to an intending traveller : what sort 
of risks will he have to run from fevers, 
natives, and wWtflib^sfecwhere he is going ? " 




Men going abroad on service or on sport- 
ing trips, gravely consult Mr. Coles as to the 
details of their outfit ; and all this information 
is readily and gratuitously given. Among 
the curator's correspondents there must be 
some very queer folk, judging from the extra- 
ordinary letters I have seen. u Would it be 
possible," wrote one man, earnestly, " to be 
in one island on a Saturday, and row across 
to another and find it Sunday ? " 

The very instruments used by Mr. Coles 
in his teaching have a romantic history. 
Take, for example, his theodolite. " Originally 
it was made for Dr. Mullins, who took it 
across Madagascar. It was then taken up 
towards \jikr Victoria, in Last Africa. After 

possibly such instruments are used as 
ornaments. A theodolite would make an 
imposing brooch, and a couple of sextants a 
taking pair of earrings for some savage 

I gladly acknowledge here the courteous 
assistance rendered me by Mr, Coles in the 
selection of the remarkable photos, that are 
reproduced in this article. Consider for a 
moment the accompanying illustration ; it 
depicts the Akabar, or Great Caravan, which, 
starting from Morocco once a year, crosses 
the Sahara, and is bound for the Western 
Sudan and Timbuktu. The Akabar is 
usually composed of 10,000 camels, each 
carrying goods valued at ^50. Observe the 

THE CHEAT CARAVAN CROSSfSiw T iJ 1-1 tfAHA HA — *Ui n\ I Nh i Ui>W 1 J I K WuMI-.N Alii: lAHHIKU. 

Dr. Mullins died in Africa, the instrument 
was brought home. It was then taken by 
me across the mountains and untrodden 
paths of Iceland for a thousand miles. Next 
it was lent (as many R.G.S. instruments are) 
to a person who took it within the Arctic 
Circle for magnetic observations, and after 
that it was again sent out to East Africa for 
a year's surveying. It was later on returned 
to me, and has since been constantly used in 
giving instruction, for it is as perfect now as 
the day it was bought." 

One wonders, by the way, what becomes 
of scientific instruments taken by savages 
from explorers they have murdered. Quite 

great fan -shaped erections on the camels' 
backs. It is interesting to note that these 
contain the women of each household, who 
are in this way screened from vulgar observa- 

In wading through the great boxes of 
photos, at the Royal Geographical Society, 
one envies the widely -scattered Fellows of 
that body, so wonderful are the peoples they 
meet and the places they visit. It is com- 
monly supposed that all savages lead a lazy 
life, and have nothing else to think about 
but "knockin' the stumV" out of their 
peaceable neighbours. The head-hunters of 




as our own I insured classes adopt slumming 
— solely as a light and interesting occu- 
pation, entailing much kudos* But travel- 
lers frequently come across real hard- 

working people in savage lands. 
Look at the two Kashmiri wood- 
carriers depicted in the accompany- 
ing illustration. This photo, was 
presented to the Society, with others, 
by Captain H. H. Deasy, who has 
been recently attempting to reach 
the sacred city of Lhasa, in Tibet. 
Captain Deasy met these men near 
Bandipura, in Kashmir, " I weighed 
one load," he says, "and it turned the 
scale at 2401b," No wonder the poor 
fellows carry a pole to lean upon ! 

Hard work, we know, falls to the 
lot of woman among savage races. 
The next photo, shown was taken 
by Dr. Ho1ub,an Austrian, in South 
Central Africa (Barotseland) ; and 
it depicts a woman of powerful build 
hoeing in the gardens. The institu- 
tion of the creche being unknown in 
the Karotse country, the big* comical 
baby accompanies its mother, being 
fastened securely on to her broad 

One might, indeed, go on in- 
definitely reproducing photos, out 
of the Society's splendid collection 
— particularly as these show that 
there is hardly a square mile of 
the earth's surface that has not been visited 
by some daring Knglishman armed with 
camera and gun, The next photo, illustrates 
the extraordinary growth of orchids on a tree 





The denseness of tropical forests, by the 


is illustrated in an interesting manner 


Those glorious exotics, we know, are parasitic 
plants, but I doubt whether an actual photo, 
of them in situ has ever before been repro- 
duced in a popular 
magazine. Ex- 
perienced orchid- 
hunters are sent out 
to Central America, 
New Guinea* and 
elsewhere, by such 
firms as Sander and 
Co., of St, Albans; 
and the adventures 
of some of these 
collectors would fill 
many volumes with 
thrilling narratives. 
So dense is the 
forest in many 
cases that, in order 
to get at the plants, 
the tree itself has 
to be felled; this, 
of course, necessi- 
tates a large and ex- 
pensive retinue. 

by the accompanying photo. Here we see 
how the natives of Guadalcanar (one of the 
Solomon Islands) carry a pig through the 
forest. They would carry in the same way a 
prisoner or a wounded man. It is difficult 
enough to " persuade " a pig along a London 
street, but it would be absolutely impossible 
to drive one through the dense undergrowth 
of a tropical forest. This photo., as well as 
its immediate predecessor, was presented to 
the R.G.S. by Mr. C. M. Woodford, who 
took them in 1886-7 in New Guinea and the 
Fiji and Solomon Islands, 

The Royal Geographical Society instructs 
travellers in a wonderfully complete manner. 
That invaluable little book, " Hints to 
Travellers," issued by the Society, and used 
by travellers of all nationalities, contains 
information on outfit, by Mr, Douglas 
Freshfield, Mr. Whymper, Sir Harry Johnston, 
and others, and medical and surgical hints by 
a famous Army surgeon. Some elementary 
knowledge of medicine and surgery is 
ob vio u s 1 y of v i t a 1 n ece ss i t y to explorers, The 
knowledge of the healing art possessed by 
" doctors " in savage lands may be peculiar, 
but it is rarely extensive. I reproduce here 
a portrait of the " koodoo/' or medicine 
man, of a tribe in Siberia. According to 
our ideas he is not the kind of practitioner 
that compels one's faith and respect ; but he 
is far from being the most forbidding medicine 
man ever encountered by travellers. 

Besides Mr, Coles's lessons in observing 







and surveying, there are other lessons given 
under the Society's auspices in photo- 
graphy, meteorology and climate, geology, 
botany, natural history, and anthropology. 
Lastly, the explorer is carefully instructed as to 
the taking of "squeezes," I hasten to explain. 
What is meant is wet paper " squeezes" of 
monuments, inscriptions, and similar things 
which cannot be bodily removed. 

Dr. Hugh R, Mill, who presides at the 
R.G,S. over the finest geographical library in 
the world, is himself a scientist of distinction. 
Like Mr, Coles, the librarian also receives 
extraordinary letters from remote parts of the 
world, The "flat-earth man " (and there is a 
number of him) still afflicts the genial doctor, 
who, however, takes no notice whatever of his 
despairing argument, " Is the 
eye a perfect instrument ? " 

Before me as I write is a 
specimen of the amazing letters 
that sometimes figure in IX 
Mill's correspondence. It is 
written from Dallas, Texas :— 

My DEAR StR,— I beg to take 
the liberty of asking you to kindly 
ilcckta a controversy on the follow- 
ing question, uhich at present 
agitates the mind of two of my 
friends. It is : — 

Kindly answer either in afiii motive 
or negative, and greatly uhlige, 
Yours very truly, 

DR. HlT,S a. MILL. 

Dr Mill's reply to this l£ poser'* was a 
masterpiece of cautious diplomacy. Asked 
why, he said he suspected it was a bet 
Formerly he used to take great pains in 
answering such letters ; but one day he got a 
note thanking him most effusively for his 
reply, and stating, incidentally, that the writer 
had won a large sum of money. 

" Do salmon go up Niagara ? " was another 
question sent thousands of miles to the 
R.G.S, ; and (l Is there a town in any 
part of the world called * Trilby'?" was 

This latter, Dr. Mill tells me, was a 
trade-mark case — something connected with 
stockings ; and no geographical name 
can be registered as a trade mark* Almost 
needless to say, there now wa town called 
"Trilby," and— equally of course — that town 
is in one of the Western States of America- 
Some of the earlier geographical works 
under Dr. Mill's care contain pictures of 
impossible human beings, strange and 
fearsome animals, and maps of utterly non- 
existent islands and continents. Written as 
valuable contributions to science, these 
books are extremely interesting, not to say 
funny ; but there are also in this marvel- 
lously complete library examples of far more 
modern mendacity, 

A certain gentleman — for reasons best 
known to himself — elected to pose as a great 
explorer, so he published a work on his 
supposed travels in New Guinea. The book 
was written diary-fashion, and it contained an 
abundance of detail — very startling detail, 
too. A wonderful fellow, the writer! He 
described tigers in this island where no one 
else ever saw a tiger; spoke of winged animals ; 
and he had discovered a mountain ja.ocoft, 
high. He called it, appropriately, 4t Mount 
Hercules," and a picture of it forms the 
frontispiece of the book. 

The newspaper reviews were 
great — simply great ; and the 
" explorer w — who possibly 
had never been out of London 
— thought his fame had come 
to stay. But that mountain 
fell upon him, so to spenk. 
You see, he was foolish 
enough 3 in his passion for 
detail, to give the latitude 
and longitude of Mount 

The late secretary of the 
R.G.S. (Mr. Bates) one day 
s"t himself to work out the 

(Librarian, Ruyal Ccugmplikal Society*) . * tui*. ^*,» 



pendous mountain, which 
was, at length, triumphantly 
proved to be located 600 
miks out at sea I 

As might be expected, 
the Society's great collec- 
tion of photographs con- 
tains many interesting ones 
bearing upon the religions 
of various native races. 
Whilst looking over these 
I came upon the accom- 
panying curiosity. This 
strange object is a figure of 
Christ, which was made by 
the Indians for a chapel at 
Azara, in Paraguay. The 
traditional likeness is cur- 
iously suggested ; notice, 
too, the long robe, the 
girdle^ and the crown of 
thorns. This latter is a 
little anachronistic, for 
Christ is here supposed to 
be delivering the Sermon 
on the Mount, The head is 
of wood rudely but effec- 
tively carved, and painted 
with brilliant pigments. 

It is a truism to remark 
that no instinct is more 
common to the human race 
than the worship 
of — something ; 
even one's own 
ancestors. But 
perhaps the most 
form of worship 
on record is that 
indicated in the 
last photo, re- 
produced here. 


This shows a n timber of 
bears* skulls set up for 
worship by the Ainus in 
the Island of Yezo. The 
photo, is one of a number 
taken by M, J. Revilliod 
and Professor Milne, the 
famous seismologist 

One parting word about 
the Royal Cieographkal 
Society. Its sphere of in- 
fluence is the whole of this 
planet— of which, by the 
way, a goodly portion yet 
remains unexplored by 
civilized man. The secret 
of the North Pole having 
been almost definitely laid 
bare by the heroic Nansen, 
the R.G.S* fixes its cor- 
porate eye on the Antarctic 
Regions. A large part of 
South America is still terra 
incognita; and Central 
Asia, Africa, and Australia 
contain, even at this day, 
ample scope for the 
labours of the Society's 
most daring pupils. The 
R.G.S. has accomplished 
much, but the end is not 
yet The Society grows in 
power and know- 
ledge ; it is in 
with every other 
G eogra phical 
Society in the 
world, even to 
the one organ- 
ized at Irkutsk 
by the political 
exiles of Siberia. 


by Google 

Original from 

Duelling in German Universities. 

By an English Student. 

wrote a German student 
" My honour has at last 
been satisfied A week ago 
a Mummer junge' named 
Schwartz stepped on my 
dog's tail, and I challenged him, The fight 


From a Photo, bv With. Jtinc, Jfarbmur, All* Gennimp, 

took place yesterday* Schwartz got a bad 
slash on his left cheek, and I got two cuts, 
one just under my eye, and the other on my 
head. The cuts are very painful, but they 
will make beautiful scars. As soon as the 
bandages were on, I got photographed, and 
with tliis letter I send you the result. You 
will be proud/' And when the father got 
this letter, he fell over himself with joy. For 
his son, the pride of his heart, had at last 
fought a duel, and had received his first 

This letter would appear an exaggera- 
tion if it were not for the fact that many 
funny things go on in the world that 
some people don't know about. One 
of these things is the German University 
duel. Travellers in Germany often notice 
the slashed faces of the men on the 
street, and soon learn that the scars are 
the results of duels, but it is not gene- 
rally known that, amongst the students, 
duelling is a custom regularly observed, 
and that instead of avoiding en- 
counters with the sword, they welcome 

and hasten the moment when they can enter 
a combat and get a scar. It is also remark- 
able that, although civil duelling is forbidden 
by law, the custom flourishes like a green 
bay tree. Bismarck favours it, and the 
German Emperor appreciates it. The Kaiser 
himself is said to have once fought a duel 
at Bonn, and what is good enough for the 
Kaiser is excellent for the average German 
student. In this may lie the reason for the 
laxity in enforcing the law. 

At first sight, the system of duelling now 
in vogue in Germany is a little confusing ; 
but, generally speaking, there are two kinds 
of duels. The first kind is that alluded to 
in the boy's epistle to his father— a duel in 
which honour has to be satisfied. The 
second kind is best described as a duel (i by 
agreement" For the sake of avoiding con- 
fusion, we delay speaking of the second kind 
until we have shown the nature of the first 

The modus operandi of the honour duel is 
as follows. A good duellist who knows no 
fear simply goes about seeking whom he may 
affront. He seats himself, for instance, in a 
restaurant, with his great Dane — the fashion- 
able pet dog— at his feet. By-and-by another 
student wanders in, and if he, too, is looking 
for a "scrap/ 1 he casually plants his foot 
on the big dog's tail. This is all that is 
necessary. Hot words ensue, cards are 
exchanged with a great deal of politeness, 
and the meeting takes place irt a secluded 
spot in the woods at an early hour. It lasts 
but a few minutes, and the least cut upon 
the head or cheek satisfies outraged honour. 
The combatants shake hands, become good 
friends, and after the wounds are healed, 
they sport their cuts with pride. Then, if 




they want more 
cut&j they go off 
and step on more 
dogs' tails. 

As fo r the 
due!/' it may be 
said that nearly 
every German 
student belongs 
to a u club," as a 
member of which 
he is bound to 
fight This rule 
accounts for 
many of the 
honour duels, as 
a student, if he 
has been in the 
club a reasonable 
length of time 
without having a 
quarrel thrust 
upon him, is 
finally informed 
by the leader of 
the club that he 
must have a duel 
within a certain 

period The student is then obliged to 
secure a quarrel with someone, and, if he 
fails in that, he sometimes selects his best 

friend. But it is 
when the club 
as a whole chal- 
lenges another 
club to fight that 
the true meaning 
of the word 
applies. The 
contests are, in 
reality, mere ex- 
hibitions of skill, 
and upon this 
ba^is they may 
be heartily com- 
mended. One 
club of students 
merely says to 
another, "We 
will fight with 

you now, 



From a F&ata. by With, Riot, Afarimrp A,L. Gtrmanv- 

list of fixtures is 
arranged. The 
duels take place 
every Saturday, 
commencing at 
seven O'clock in 
winter, and half- 
past six in sum- 
mer. The different clubs go by different names. 
There are " Corps/ 1 " Burschenschafts " 
(" students' associations "), and u Verbin- 

>'n | , r | 


1-iNiv ffisiTWffli imra/w "- t«^™* 




dungs'' (•* leagues"), and each club usually 
fights with a club of its own class and rules. A 
'* Corps" will not fight with a " Verbindung," 
and rarely fights with a 1( BurschenschatV 
because the last-named club plays a waiting 
game, and can draw back its head when a 
blow is coming. For this reason, the 
Burschenschaft is usually despised by the 
Corps, and, it may be added, usually wins 
the match. Each club, moreover, has its 
own set of officers ; and to show the gay 
costumes in which the officers and members 
array themselves, we give two pictures — one 
photograph showing three " Chargister," or 
officers, of a Verhhulung, and the other 
showing a number of Verbindung juniors™ 
cantly called "Fiichse," or "Foxes," at their 
beery revels in the *' Kneipe," 

But these little details may be left, for 
a moment, to take care of themselves. It is 
the " mensur," or match, that shows German 
University duelling in its most interesting, 
and, I may say, silliest, form, Often on 
Saturday mornings, from my study window, I 
have watched the cart-load of duelling ac- 
coutrements passing up the road to a suburb 
of the town, and curiosity at last drew me 
into the stream of students following. I 
entered an hotel with the others, and im- 
mediately found myself in a large hall filled 
with students — some seventy or eighty — in 
caps of all colours. It was a gaily dressed 
throng. Some of the students were drinking, 
and others, upon entering the " Kneipe- 
room" (where the drinking goes on), intro- 
duced themselves to a sort of master of 

From a Pfo4o. Ny Wiih. fiiws, Marburg &L, 

ceremonies, by bowing and at the same time 
mentioning their namts. 

On the other side of the hall was a door, 
labelled "Billiards," and inlo this I walked. 
The place reeked of iodoform and beer. In 
the centre of the room two chairs, about 
three yards apart, with their backs to each 
other, stood on a square of carpet, old and 
discoloured, with here and there a splotch of 
faded blood, A duel was just over, and the 
sprinkled sawdust was dotted with little 
ruddy pools. Two students were sitting on 
the chairs as if for a shampoo, their heads 
bent over basins, while young medicals in 
long white aprons, with upturned shirt- 
sleeves, were stitching the nasty wounds, No 
anaesthetic was used, for no duellist would 
be thought M weak/' 

While the stitching was proceeding prepara- 
tions for another duel were going on, and two 
students were being strapped up in their 
uniform. This encounter, "with seconds," 
was to last for twenty -five minutes. I may 
add that when duellists have no quarrel with 
each other, and are simply exhibiting their 
skill, they fight with seconds, and a halt can be 
called as soon as five blows have been struck 
on each side, a momentary rest being thereby 
allowed. In the duel " without seconds " no 
halt can be called for twenty-five minutes, 
or until blood has been drawn and a 
combatant is disabled. When the seconds 
are engaged, they stand at the left of the 
combatants, each wearing a cap with a heavy 
visor, a pad with the club colours over 
their stomachs, and carrying a basket-hiked 

sword. The uni- 
form or armour 
for a duel u with " 
or " without " is 
essentially the 
same, and the 
dressing operation 
was very interest- 
ing. One of the 
duellists first drew 
off his coat, waist- 
coat, and shirt, 
and put on his 
'* pauckhund," or 
fighting - shirt, 
made of coarse 
material, to save 
the finer linen 
below, which 
otherwise would 
be stained with 
blood, Then on 

•™— llNIVERSITYOFMfCHlM nght arm 






he drew a sleeve of wadded silk, running 
from wrist to shoulder. He then put a heavy 
leather pad on his right armpit, and a like 
pad over his heart. Now came a heavy 
fencing glove that completely covered the 
hand, and after that, the arm, from wrist to 
shoulder, was wrapped with strips of silk, 
until the limb was quite as large as a man's 
thigh. Silk is used because it protects the 
arm best from cuts. After the silk was on, 
the student placed a wadded silk cravat on his 
throat, and a pair of heavy iron goggles on 

his eyes* Next came ihe " pauckhosen," or 
fighting -breeches, of thick padded leather. 
Often, I may add, in explanation of the 
costume in the duel "with seconds," the 
padded trousers are not worn, not being 
deemed necessary in a simple trial of skill. 
Finally the student takes up the big "schlager," 
or rapier, about forty inches long, with a blunt 
point and sharpened edges, The sword is 
protected at the hilt by a rounded tin-plate 
about ten inches in diameter, which has been 
jokingly dubbed the *' soup-plate of honour,' 3 







fTroni uj 



When the dressing was done, there was a 
delay of a few moments, during which each 
duellist rested his padded arm on a comrade's 
shoulder, to prevent it getting tired. Suddenly 
there was a movement amongst the onlookers, 
and the Master of Ceremonies entered, and 
made a little speech, The fighting students 
then took their places three feet from 
each other, each still wearing his cap, 
and standing on a cross marked on the 
floor. They were compelled to stand on 
this cross, and, upon pain of expulsion 
from the corps, were not allowed to bend 
back to avoid a blow. The umpire stood 
a few feet to the side, and prepared himself 

to mark the time of the duel, to give word 
for the various halts, and to declare the 
number of blows which drew blood. A 
second now called out, " Umpire, please com- 
mand silence for a fifteen minutes' 'mensur* 
between Von Briesen and Boos with seconds !" 
The umpire gave the command and the raps 
came off. The second then cried, "Auf der 
mensur ! Bindet die klingen ! " (" On with the 
match. Touch blades ! iy ) The swords were 
now crossed, and the seconds, who were stand- 
ing at the left of each principal, touched the 
crossed blades with their own swords, one of 
the seconds calling out, "Gebunden sind ! w 
("They are joined ! J> ) The duellists now 

f-'fvm a I 

i-ATtiiiNf; ur THE FTRSI 


I I 

■ iilt 





raised their right amis over their heads so 
that the arm protected the top of the head, 
the sword hanging parallel to the left side of 
the face, guarding the left cheek. As soon 
as both were on guard, one of the seconds 
cried, "Los!* < u Apart!"} and the fight 
began. Clash followed clash, and each tried 
to strike the first blow. The fighting is all 
done from the wrist, and the arm must be 
kept above the head. Each man tries to 
touch his adversary by reaching over the 
protecting arm and striking the scalp or left 
cheek, when the latter is unguarded. The 
fight continued for some moments, when one 
of the men began to bleed. u Umpire!" 
called one of the seconds, u please declare a 
4 blutigen 7 on the head ! " The umpire 
declared it, and a doctor ran forward to 
examine the cut, which, he said, was insignifi- 
cant. Then the fight went on. 

In fifteen minutes it was over, and the 
hospital work began. Two tired students, 
streaming with blood, were bending exhausted 
o\ ur the chairs. The rapiers, which had been 
bent in the fight, were straightened, and 
cleaned with carbolic acid, and the sponges, 
water, and crooked needles, filled with 
coloured silk, lying on a table near by, were 
brought into use. One of the doctors was 
entering up in a little book the number of 
cuts received, and the number of stitches 
required to sew them up. The doctor is 
the judge of a cut sufficiently dangerous to 
stop a duel, and his little book is the official 
record of the contest. 

According to the rules of some Universities, 

Frnm a\ 

VoL xijL-20 


by Google 


the nature of the offence in a contest of 
honour requires a certain number of cuts. 
If one man, for example, calls another a 
"dummer junge," which really has a dread- 
ful sound, although it simply means "silly 
youth," the injured honour may be satisfied 
with twenty-four cuts with the sword. The 
same amount is prescribed for the injury 
done by the word "infamous," which cer- 
tainly does not seem a fair penalty. Some- 
times one student kills another. In th;it 
event he is advised to quit the seat of 
learning. He can, however, enter another 
University, hut if he kills a second time, his 
reputation is gone, and no University will 
allow him within its doors. Often, again, 
it happens that a duel brings on serious 
consequences not dreamt of in the German 
philosophy. In 1882, for example, at the 
University of Jena, twenty-three duels took 
place among the students in a single day, 
and all those who had been wounded 
suddenly found themselves down with blood- 
poisoning. Three of the students died, mu] 
forty -three were laid up in the hospital It 
w T as quickly discovered that the swords, 
which had been used in the previous duels, 
had not been properly cleaned. 

But with all its dangers, from dirty swords 
or other causes, the custom goes gaily on, 
even in defiance of the law. If a local 
** bobby " happens to catch wind of the duel, 
he may break into the Kneipe, but without 
success. The signal has been given, and 
when the * £ arm of the law" enters, he finds 
nothing but a lot of peaceful and phlegmatic 

students, dozing, 
carousing, and 
drinking the in 
evi table beer. In 
nine cases out of 
ten, "bobby" does 
not try to interrupt 
the bloody cere- 
monies, for he, in 
common with his 
Kaiser and the 
powers that be, 
believes that duel- 
ling promotes 
bravery, and puis 
the young in 
training for the 
sight and smell of 
blood. But it is 
very, very bad for 
the physiognomy 
of man. 

J FAofT^rapA. 


A JVooden Shoe. 

From the French of Ph. Audebrand. 

N 1832, just at the end of 
September, the music-lovers 
of Paris were greatly disturbed 
by a disquieting rumour, which 
spread quickly through the 
city. A newspaper announced 
that Nicolo Paganini had suddenly fallen ill 
at the end of one of his concerts. For a 
time, the amateurs hoped that the news- 
paper story was erroneous, or at least 
exaggerated. But it was all too true. An 
intermittent fever, common amongst artists 
who overwork, attacked the great musician, 
and aroused grave fears that his life was in 
danger. Paganini, who was ideally slender, 
seemed to live only in his art. It was feared 
that his frail and nervous organization would 
break down before the first attacks of an 
obstinate disease. 

Paganini's friends hastily called three 
doctors of great reputation — three lights of 
the Paris faculty. Such is the custom. 
For a long time these gentlemen examined 
their patient, but could not come to any 
agreement Such is also the custom. 

" It is easy to see," said one of the doctors, 
"that disease has laid our Orpheus low. 
This is doubtless the result of a too great 
love for music. Our patient has neither 
heart, thought, nor breath, except for his 
violin. It is my opinion that the best 
remedy is absolute rest. I am also willing 
to prescribe chicken-broth and Bordeaux, on 
the understanding, of course, that the wine 
will be given only in small doses." 

" As for me, gentlemen," said another, " I 
am of the opinion that this sudden illness is 
a result of the cholera, which has raged 
through Paris this summer. Wine and 
chicken-broth are all very well, but something 
more is needed. Instead of quiet, I should 
advise riding and other exhilarating exercise ; 
conversation, gaiety, and intercourse in 

" With all due deference to such honour- 
able colleagues, gentlemen, I may say that 
the advice just given does not wholly con- 
form to my idea," objected the third. " If 
this famous musician is allowed to play even 
for his own amusement, I venture to say that 
he is a dead man. The present state of 
things has been brought about by an even- 
ing's excitement. The applause of the crowd 
and the flowers thrown at his feet have 
caused fever. The praise of the Press 
excites him and wears him out. Paganini 

began by a struggle against misery and 
obscurity. He then weakened himself by 
burning the midnight oil, and he is now 
completely broken down by continual travel- 
ling. Paganini loves to be by himself, and 
my prescription takes this fact into account. 
I would suggest that he settle down for the 
autumn in a warm and quiet place, where 
there is a large paik in the neighbourhood, 
and, if possible, a woody promenade. In a 
place like that he would drink in the 
sweetness of autumn. * Carpe diem? says 
Horace. When winter comes, he will be a 
new man. That's all I have to say." 

Without more discussion, they put it to the 
vote, and the last suggestion carried the day 
by two to one. Solitude, absolute rest, a 
health-resort, and hygienic nourishment. In 
four lines, on a bit of music paper which lay 
loosely on a table near them, they wrote the 
prescription. Each put his signature at the 
bottom and then went off. 

Little now remained to be done except to 
find a suitable resort. At first, eyes were cast 
upon a villa in the Champs Elys^es, which, 
twenty-five years ago, was not over-crowded 
with houses. The invalid thought, however, 
that he could not stand the noise of the 
carriages, horses, and public merrymaking in 
the neighbourhood. Someone then proposed 
a health-resort, at that time situated at the 
top of the Bois de Boulogne, in charming 
surroundings ; but the musician, like all true 
children of the South, was afraid of the cold, 
and declared that he feared the first breath 
of winter from the neighbouring woods. 
What he wanted was Nice, because of its 
eternal sun, or Paris, because of its well-closed 

Accordingly, the next day Paganini was 
moved to the Villa Lutoetiana, at the top of 
the suburb of Poissonifere. One of the best 
points about the place was the entire liberty 
of action allowed to the new-comer. Each 
lived according to his own taste, at the 
general table or by himself. When evening 
came, those who loved to chat or play games 
remained in the drawing-room. Others took 
the air on the gravel walks of the garden, or 
went back to their rooms with the latest 
novel in their hands. 

Paganini was naturally one of those who, 
caring neither for excitement nor noisy talk, 
disappeared to their rooms upon the slightest 
pretext as fast as their heels could take them. 

Our? is an^KL- pfr self-adcratfon, and there 




are not a few public men who take great 
delight in the reflection of their own glory. 
The great musician was not, however, one of 
these. He was most uncomfortable when 
the eyes of others were fixed upon his long 
and melancholy face. Let us listen to the 
gossip of the drawing-room. Four or five 
old women are tearing Pagan in i to pieces. 

** Have you seen this great artist, ladies ? 
He bows to no 
one, he never 
opens his mouth, 
he never re- 
mains in one 
place ; he rushes 
through his 
soup, under the 
arbour when the 
sun is shining, 
and takes to his 
legs if he catches 
sight of a looker- 
on. What an old 
bear he is ! * 

"That's on 
account of his. 
disease, 1 ' added 
another. "People 
say that his life 
is shadowed by 
some terrible 
mystery — some 
mishap which 
has brought on 
aneurism of the 
heart The poor 
man knows that 
he is going to 
die of it in less 
than a year, 
perhaps in six 
months. Of 
course, it gives 
him the blues." 

"You haven't 
yet hit it," hroke 
in another old 
cat 4C Paganini 
is an old hunks, 
and everybody 

knows tt Do you remember the concert 
which M. Jules Janin got up for the 
benefit of the sufferers by the Saint Etienne 
flood? Paganini refused to take part because 
they wanted him to play for nothing. In 
this house, where he knocks round amongst 
a few people, he is afraid of being forced to 
observe the little courtesies which a well-bred 
man never forgets — an ice, a bouquet, a box 

at the opera, or a fashionable novel He is 
a perfect miser ! " 

"That's so!" cried a fourth. "You 
haven't stretched it a bit. When I saw him 
come in, I said to myself that he would 
probably never set foot in the drawing-room, 
seeing that the gaming-tables are there. Fancy 
this Harpagon at play ! If it were possible 
for him to lose twenty sous at whist, be 

would go off and 

_ , 


cut his neck with 
his fiddlestick/ 1 
One by one, 
these idle witti- 
cisms reached 
the musician in 
his loneliness. 
But what did he 
care? Paganini 
followed his own 
bent absolutely. 
He preferred to 
live alone, to 
walk about 
under the trees, 
free from obser- 
vation, and to 
read over and 
over again a 
packet of o 1 d 
letters which he 
treasured deeply 
and took with 
him wherever he 
went In quie- 
tude, he gradu- 
ally regained 
his lost health. 
Once in a while 
a gleam of fun 
would pierce 
through the 
deep sadness 
which enveloped 
him like a cloud. 
There was no 
one in the house 
whom Paganini 
cared for except 
You will naturally ask me who Nicette 
was. In a few words, she was a chamber- 
maid at the villa, and was learning to cook : 
a pretty girl of eighteen, who had been 
appointed to wait on the invalids. The artist 
had caught sight of her pretty face, and had 
asked to have her wait upon him, Nicette 
was every inch ■; P:,cnrdian, and she chattered 

^HIVfl^CHflflm* served break - 



fast in the morning, she Lokl Paganini, riot 
for mischief, but for the fun of the thing, the 
story of the day's doings in the house. A 
smile, which showed no trace of bitterness, 
played round Pagan in i's lips and made him 
look young again. 

One day, Nicette came in without her 
happy smile, Autumn was drawing to a 
close. The leaves in the garden were already 
turning yellow, and the first winds of winter, 
which draw people together, began to rattle 
the window - panes. The musician was 
amusing himself by carving a piece of 
ivory in the form of a dagger handle, and 
he began to question the young girl 

"Ah! What's the matter with you, my 
child? You don't seem very lively. Your 

" Simple enough. 





jBbl -1 F\ 



-:j>» 3S 




11 All right," he said- " I understand every- 
thing. It's about a sweetheart ! n 

Nicette did not reply in words, but she 
blushed. It was answer enough. He insisted. 
"Tell me everything, my child. Perhaps 
I may be able to help you." 

Nicette dried her tears on the hem of her 

"What has he done?" continued the 
musician. " Wait ! I have heard the whole 
story a hundred times in the comic operas of 
Italy, After having made you a thousand 
promises, he has left you, and now he never 
sends you word of love," 

"Ah, poor fellow ! He has left me, it is 
true, but not through any fault of his." 
"How so?" 

He was twenty this 
summer, and was 
needed for the army. 
He had an unlucky 
number at the con- 
scription ; he has gone 
away, and at this mo- 
ment he is mounting 
guard at Lille* in Flan- 
ders, with a musket 
five feet long on his 
shoulder, That's the 
trouble, ^ir. You can 
see that nothing can 
be done," * 

"But, Nicette, isn't 
there some way of get- 
ting a substitute?" 

It was Nicette's turn 
to smile, but her smile 
was a sad one, 

" You are joking, 
sir/ 1 said the young 
girk " Buy a substi- 
tute? And with 

" It costs something, 

** This year men arc 
dearer than ever, on 
account of the war 
scare* Fifteen hundred 
francs, and not a sou 


pretty eyes are red. You've been crying, 
Nicette. Has something gone wrong ? ff 

** A great deal, monsieur." 

£( Would it be wrong for me to ask the 
reason ? " 

"No, monsieur, not exactly, but " 

He turned his two magnificent eyesjppl the 
troubled face of the maid. 

At this point, the artist very tenderly took 
the little white hands of the chambermaid 
into his own, 

"If that is all it costs,'' he said, "do not 
cry any more* Fifteen hundred francs are 
not of much account 1 am good for that 
amount" Original from 

At UWViR5tTW»iiWHKA^k a pencil 



and hastily wrote these words on the cover 
of a note-book : — 

"Remember to give a concert for the 
benefit of Nicette." 

A month slipped by, and winter was at 
hand. We all know how quickly the bitter 
wind and the drifting snow come in Paris. 
Of the charming garden of the Villa 
Lutoetiana nothing remained except leafless 
trees, bare flower-plots, silent birds, and two 
or three little marble statues which shivered 
in the frost 

One November day the doctor said to 
Paganini : " My dear sir, you must not go 
out into the open air till the first of March." 

" I will obey," replied the musician. 

It is necessary to add that from this time 
forth little was needed to bring Paganini 
back to complete health, When he made 
his toilet in the morning, and then looked into 
the mirror, he had noticed for some time 
that he was growing singularly youthful. 

Although the musician was denied his 
usual walk in the garden, he was happily 
becoming a little less gloomy. It was 
noticed that he sometimes lingered in the 
drawing-room. After dinner, he would throw 
himself on a red-velvet couch, and rest 
there for twenty minutes, turning over the 
leaves of an album of fashionable drawings, 
or stirring with a little gold spoon his glass 
of water, sweetened with orange-flowers. All 
this naturally set the tongues of the gossips 
wagging again. 

Paganini let them talk. His health restored, 
he could think of one thing only — the 
promise made to Nicette. 

" We'll see about that during the winter," 
he thought, "in January or February. A 
few strokes of the bow will be enough." 

Christmas Eve was approaching. At the 
anniversary of the birth of Christ, there 
exists in France a custom dear to children, 
which is regularly celebrated in Paris. In 
the chimney corner, they put a boot or a 
wooden shoe — the latter by preference — and 
imagine that a spirit afterwards comes down 
the chimney with hands full of sweets and 

On the morning of the 24th of December, 
the four busybodies of whom we have 
spoken got together for a chat about this 
custom, which is beginning to fall into 
disuse. For such people, it is but a step 
from gossip to a well-matured plot. 

" For this evening, then." 

" Yes, this evening is just the time." 

When the evening came, Paganini, as 
usual, was seated on a divan in the drawing- 

room, busily stirring his sweetened water, 
when an unusual noise arose. Near the 
entrance door, in the corridor leading to the 
other rooms, was heard a babel of voices and 
stamping of hob-nailed boots, loud enough to 
interrupt the whist and conversation. 

" What's that noise all about? " asked one 
of the members of the feminine quartette. 

" A mere nothing, madam," said Nicette, 
who came in just at that moment. " They 
are bringing a box." 

" For whom ? " added the vixens, stifling 
their laughter. 

" The address is badly written, they say." 

" Tell the porter to come in." 

A big fellow entered. He was an awkward 
Auvergnat, with red whiskers and a waistcoat 
of blue velveteen. In his hands he carried 
a box of fir-wood, on which was written, in 
big black letters, the word, " fragile " / and 
below this in a smaller hand : " To Monsieur 
Nicolo Paganini." 

"Where did you get the idea that the 
address was badly written, Nicette?" cried 
an old boarder, who was a martyr to gout. 
"Nothing can be plainer than the hand- 
writing. The parcel belongs to our illustrious 

Paganini, like all dreamers, was absent- 
minded, and did not know that he was being 
talked about. Nicette spoke to him. 

" Here, sir," she said. " The box appears 
to belong to you." 

" The box ? What box, my child ? " 

"This one here." 

The violinist came near swallowing his 
glass of sweetened water the wrong way, on 
seeing the Auvergnat walking towards his 

" But where does the box come from ? " 
asked the artist. 

The man replied that he had not the 
slightest idea, but that he thought it must have 
come from Orleans or perhaps from Lyons. 

"This is very singular," objected Paganini. 
" I don't know a soul in either of those 
cities. Who can have sent it ? " 

"It doesn't matter," said Nicette, as 
sweetly as possible. " Surely you can't 
refuse to receive the parcel ? " 

"Very true, my child." 

So saying, he put his hand in his pocket, 
and pulled out a five-franc piece, which he 
gave to the porter. 

"Thank you, sir," said the Auvergnat, as 
he started out. 

Nicette remained standing. 

" Shall 1 lake the box to your room, sir ? *' 

she aslccflRSI TV OF MICHIGAN 





But Paganini was so evidently perplexed 
that he did not think of answering. He 
kept turning and re-turning the box over on 
nil its sides. His sharp eyes looked as if he 
were saying: "What is this box? Where 
dots it come from ? " The word " Fragile™ 
purposely written on the cover, upset all his 

"In truth/' daringly broke in one of the 
four dames, " it is evident that New Year's 
gifts are arriving before their proper time," 

"Yes," said a second, "that little box 
must contain something valuable. Who 
knows but it may be a Stradlvarius, or an 
A mat?, perhaps ? hi 

"You are mistaken, my good woman," 
said the boarder with the gout ; u I am well 
up in the art of packing, and I stake my 
reputation that it is almond-cake from the 

"But, my dear sir, an almond-cake is not 
exactly * fragile,' ,: protested the four women. 

As for Paganini, impatience grew on him, 
and, quickly taking hold of the wrapping- 
paper with the ends of his long fingers, he 
had the wrapper off in a second. 

"At last," said a voice, "we are going to 
have our curiosity satisfied. The box is 
open. We are going to see what it is," 

The voice was mistaken. As yet, the)' 
saw nothing. 

By this time, the musician had taken out 
a very bulky package, containing a thick wad 
of darkish paper, like that used by travellers 
on long trips. The object was solidly held 
together by three great lumps of red sealing- 

"Well, what is it? " asked a whist-player, 

" We must break the seals to find out*" 

Paganini did not hesitate. 

But when the wrapper ,vas off, the mystery 
was far from solved. After the dark paper 
came a second wrapper of grey, and after 
this a third one of blue* 

Seeing that the thing was beginning to 
prove a veritable puzzle, the spectators of this 
scene began to prepare for the moment when 
they might enjoy a hearty laui^h. 

Meanwhile, the maestro had decided to 
take off the third wrapper, and, at last, in 
his hand, under the eyes of twenty people, 
he held an enormous wooden shoe— a shoe 
of ash- wood, made in the Ardennes, or, 
may be, in the Black Forest, big enough to 
cover the foot of a cyclops, or to serve as a 
cradle for the son of a woodcutter. 

The discovery svas followed by a long and 

™*y ^-^m^MICHIGAN 



" A wooden shoe ! " said the four old 
women in unison, looking at one another 

U A wooden shoe!" repeated Nicette, in 
an undertone. 

U A wooden shoe!" added Paganini, in a 
very confused way. "It is a had joke which 
they think very funny— a sly dig at what they 


call my avarice. I think I know who 
did it. By sending it to rne on Christmas 
Eve, they liken me to children who always 
ask but never give. One does not need to 
be very bright to see through that. Well, so 
be it ! They pretended that this box con- 
tained something valuable. I will make it 
worth so much that they shall not bo deceived. 
Some day this wooden shoe will be worth its 
weight in gold." 

When he finished speaking he got up, made 
a slight bow to those around him, and went 
away with the box and its contents. 

For three whole days the artist did not 
show himself in the drawing-room. Nicette, 
questioned, maintained that he was in his 
room, absorbed in a great work. His 
neighbours, however, said that he was con- 

tinually using a file, a saw, and a hammer. 
As a matter of fact, Paganini, who was very 
clever at the lute-maker's art, had in three 
short days, by dint of patience and hard 
work, succeeded in transforming his ash- 
wood sabot into a violin sweeter and much 
more harmonious than an Amati, 

By means of a gimlet, he had embellished 
it with a silver string, 
he had scooped it 
out, carved it, and 
made it sonorous ; 
he had given it a 
soul ; he had made 
it a masterpiece. 

The next day, a 
blue poster on the 
walls of the Villa 
Lutoetiana an- 
nounced that in less 
than three days —on 
New Year's Eve, in 
fact — Pagan i n i 
would give a concert 
in the drawing-room, 
The master would 
play ten pieces, five 
on the violin, and 
five 011 a wooden 
shoe. The admis- 
sion was fixed at 
twenty francs. In 
three lines, the 
musician also gave 
notice that the pro- 
ceeds would be 
applied to a worthy 

like notices had 
been distributed 
amongst a great 
many influential people. You may judge 
the sensation which this unexpected news 
naturally mused throughout Paris, For 
three months no one had known the where- 
abouts of the famous musician. Lovers of 
music made no attempt to hide their satis- 
faction over the good news. Needless to 
say, the tickets were quickly sold. It was 
Paganini's wish that not more than a hundred 
should be put in circulation, 

A concert in an elegant health-resort, after 
three months of silence; variations played 
alternately on a violin and a wooden shoe- ■ 
these circumstances were looked upon as 
one of the freaks often attributed to artists. 
But on the evening of the day of Saint- 
Silvestre, fine carriages were stationed along 

the fofamftfatifaimP' societ y came 



a hundred strong to assist at this recital 
one of the most remarkable incidents in an 
age prolific in eccentricities. 

Chairs, benches, and a platform had been 
cleverly arranged in the drawing-room. 
Paganini came in smiling, looking younger 
than his years, earnest in his art. He played 
on his favourite violin, and a sudden intoxi- 
cation seized his listener and transported 
them to the seventh 
heaven. He was a 
Linus, bringing the 
ancient world into 
subjection by 
means of melody. 
To the great artist 
this effect was not 
uncommon, and 
not wholly unfore- 

" But how will 
he go to work to 
get the same effects 
out of the wooden 
shoe ? " was asked. 

M Wait a mo- 
ment, and you will 
see," said the de- 
lighted dilettantes. 
11 Pagan i n i has 
taught us to expect 
all sorts of wonder- 
ful things." 

Paganini now 
took the wooden 
shoe, and in a 
moment he trans- 
formed it into one 
of the subtlest and 
most harmonious 
instruments which 
the human ear has 
ever heard. Carried 
away by his desire 
to outdo himself, 
he did not use this 

novel instrument for one of those common 
cantilenas which in a moment lay the soul 
captive, and thrill it by a superb flight of 
song; he played an entire drama, the mean- 
ing of which was evident to everybody : it 
was the return of a conscript. The bow 
pictured the sadness of the conscript's depar- 
ture, his happiness on leaving the barracks ; 
then the sound of sobbing, and a sweetheart's 
joy, followed by complete happiness. 

Upon this, the applause was overwhelming, 
The artist was called again, as at the opera, 
and bouquets fell in profusion at his feet, 

At a certain moment, even the four old 
women who had been so little in sympathy 
with the great violinist could not hide their 
deep emotion 

" It is very beautiful," they said. 
In a corner of the room, half- hidden by a 
screen, a child was sobbing from sheer joy, 
It was Nicette. The conscript's symphony 
had gone straight to her heart. 


When the concert was over, the receipts were 
counted. In all there were two thousand francs* 

"Here, Nicette," said Paganini to the little 
chambermaid, u here are 500 francs more 
than are necessary to buy the substitute. 
They will pay your soldier's travelling- 
expenses. But you will need something to 
set up housekeeping with. This wooden shoe 
—or, if you prefer, this violin— belongs to 
you. Dispose of it as you please, but I am 
sure that it will pre ve a happy dowry for you." 

As a matter of feet, Nicette sold the wooden 
shoe |lf<|)fl\6E^-[ffa,9f s^fl (r^hf-Ja mateur. 

From Behind the Speaker's Chair. 



work-time IT is P robable that amongst 
other results the new procedure 

governing Committee of Supply 


will settle the vexed question of 
the time of the year through which Parliament 
should sit. It has long been regarded as an 
unpardonable and unnecessary anomaly that 
Parliament should be condemned to hard 
labour through the fairest months of the 
year. Since the birth of organized obstruc- 
tion in the Parliament of 1874, it has come 
to pass that members of the House of 
Commons have been practically debarred 
from enjoying the delights of the country 
when in its prime. The custom has been for 
Parliament to meet the first week in February, 
adjourning somewhere between the third week 
in August and the last week in September. 

This arrangement of Parliamentary times 
'and seasons is not consecrated by the dust of 
ages. It does not go even as far back as the 
Georgian Era. When George III. was King, 
Parliament met in November, sat till May 
or June, and thus earned a recess endowed 
with the warmth and light of summer 
time. As we are reminded by recurrence of 
the anniversary of Gunpowder Plot, the 
custom of Parliament meeting for a new 
Session early in November dates back 
beyond Stuart times. Seven years ago, Sir 
George Trevelyan made an attempt to induce 
the House to return to old Conservative 
customs. He moved a resolution recom- 
mending that the Session should open in 
November, that the House should adjourn 
for brief recess at -Christmas, and not sit far 
into June. The proposal was negatived by 
a majority of four in a House of over 350 

Mr. W. H. Smith, then leading the Com- 
mons, was so impressed by this declaration 
of opinion, that it was resolved to try the 
experiment. Accordingly, in 1890, the Session 
commenced on the 25th of November. 
Parliament sat till the 9th of December, and 
adjourned till the 22nd of January. It was 
a rather long Christmas holiday, and it had 
to be paid for later on, the prorogation not 
being brought about till the 5th of August. 

This was an arrangement fatal to a move- 
ment that had commenced with such 
sprightly hope. When members were brought 

Vol. xiii.-21. 



' PLAN. 

to town in November, they were promised 
that school should break up on or about 
Midsummer Day. What actually happened 
was that the prorogation took place about the 
date which was, prior to 1874, regarded as 
customary, the difference being that members 
had been in harness since November instead 
cf meeting in February. 

Since that lamentable fiasco, there 
has been no further talk of 
winter Sessions and summer holi- 
days. But Mr. Balfour's scheme 
of appointing a limited number of nights for 
Committee of Supply, banked up at the end 
by the Closure, will certainly — as .uming good 
faith on the part of the Ministry — prevent the 
indefinite dragging out of the Session through 
August into September. In spite of all 
temptation, turning a deaf ear to the entreaty 
of powerful interests, Mr. Balfour last year 
kept faith with the House of Commons, 
The prorogation took place about the 
middle of August, as he had promised 
when, early in the Session, he appropriated 
the time of private members for Com- 
mittee of Supply. As long as honour- 
able understanding in this direction is 
observed, so long will the new procedure in 
the matter of Committee of Supply be adhered 
to. It admirably serves the larger purpose 
for which it was designed, discussion of the 
Estimates being made possible last year with 
a fulness of time and convenience of oppor- 
tunity long unknown at Westminster. 

The General Election of 1895 
added to the historic store of the 
House of Commons one fresh 
opportunity of testing the problem 
whether there is insuperable 
obstacle to the Parliamentary success of a 
man who has made his earliest fame in 
literature. It was a fortunate accident, full 
of good augury, that Mr. Lecky's much- 
looked-for maiden speech was delivered with- 
out preparation. He chanced to be in the 
House when, on the Address, debate arose 
on the question of extending amnesty to the 
Fenian prisoners. He was moved by some 
remarks from Mr. Horace Plunkett, one of 
those simple, businesslike addresses with which 
the member for Dublin County occasionally 
varies the ordinary easiness of speech-making 





in the House of Commons, Mr, Lecky, 
finding himself on his feet for the first time, 
going through the dread ordeal of speaking 
in the House of Commons, was 
manifestly nervous. He wrung 
his hands with despairing gesture; 
his knees, trembling, lent the 
appearance of a series of depre- 
catory curtsies towards the 
Chair. Soon he recovered his 
self-possession, and proceeded to 
the end of a wisely brief speech 
delivered in a pleasant voice with 
clear enunciation. He doubtless 
did much better than if, foresee- 
ing the opportunity, he had in 
the retirement and leisure of 
his study prepared a more 
elaborate oration. 

Another man of 

letters, not brought 

in with the present 

Pari i amen t , though 
in it he has made his first distinct 
bid for position as a debater, is 
Mr, Augustine Birrell. The 
member for West Fife un- 
doubtedly prepares the good 
things he distributes through his Parliamentary 
speeches. But their point, and the happily 
natural manner of their delivery, invest them 
with the charm of the impromptu. The) very 
best style of Parliamentary speaking is that 
illustrated by the successes of Lord Salisbury 
and Lord Rosebery, where the 
gift of public speaking is founded 
upon literary gift and literary 
training. Mr. Birrell has the com- 
bination of these good things. 
When, as in his case, there 
is added a strong savour of 
sprightly, occasionally auciacious, 
humour, success is assured far 
beyond the measure that awaits 
the weightier and more distin- 
guished historian of u England 
in the Eighteenth Century/' 

One of the most 

elaborate and, by 

the public, least 

used underground 
avenues in the Metropolis con- 
nects Palace Yard with the Em- 
bankment. It is probable that 
of the hundreds of thousands of 
persons who cross Westminster 
Bridge in the course of twenty -four hours, not 
a dozen are aware of the existence of this 
subterranean thoroughfare. As a matter of 



fact, it is reserved exclusively for members 
and others proceeding to and from the 
House of Commons* It is open only whilst 
the House is sitting, the ap- 
proach from the Embankment 
and the exit at the foot of the 
District Railway steps being 
locked as soon as the House is 

The passage has a remarkable 
history, inasmuch as it is the 
result of the only occasion when 
a bribe was effectively offered 
to a Select Committee of the 
House of Commons, When the 
promoters of the Metropolitan 
District Railway came before 
Parliament for powers to con- 
struct the line, they were careful 
to point out that one of their 
stations would be conveniently 
set immediately opposite the 
Clock-tower Entrance to the 
Houses of Parliament, Also, 
there would be late trains going 
westward, which in ordinary cir- 
cumstances would meet the con- 
venience of members at the 
close of debate. Finally, the promoters under- 
took to connect Palace Yard and their rail* 
way station by a private subterraneous way. 

That, of course, may have had no influence 
upon the decision of the Committee, Asa 
matter of history, the Bill passed 

There is just now 
on foot a move- 
ment, in which Mr. 
Loder takes the 
lead, for extending 
this privilege of subterraneous 
locomotion* Thanks to the 
activity and persistence of Mr. 
Herbert Gladstone, and the 
cordial concurrence of Mr, Akers- 
Douglas on succeeding him at 
the Board of Works, the long- 
contemplated improvement of 
the Parliament Street approach 
to Westminster Hall and West- 
minster Abbey will shortly be 
commenced. The unsightly block 
of houses which makes a sort of 
club-foot at the end of Parlia- 
ment Street will be swept away, 
full view being opened of West- 
minster Abbey. 
The narrow thoroughfare, King Street, at 
the back ot. this block was one time the 
principal appr6tit"kr 6°West minster. There 






"ouitEk utcta/" 


1 6.1 

is record of the crushing and trampling to 
death of a number of people crowding it 
when Queen Elizabeth, at the head of a 
cavalcade of her nobles, rode to Westminster 
to open Parliament in person. To-day the 
broadened thoroughfare of Parliament Street 
is not wide enough to hold the throng that 
gathers on the rare occasions when the 
Sovereign opens Parliament. 

Soon it will be further widened by addition 
of the back street in which Edmund Spenser 
died for lack of bread. It was in a room of a 
house in King Street that the author of 
" Paradise Lost " received the tardy charity of 
twenty pieces of silver sent him by Lord 
Essex. He returned it with bitterly courteous 
expression of regret that he had " no time to 
spend them." 

Mr. Loder discovers in the con- 
a new templated improvement of Parlia- 
proposal. ment Street an opportunity of 
adding to the comfort and con- 
venience of Ministers and officials. He 
suggests that from somewhere in the neigh- 
bourhood of Downing Street a subway may 
start, landing in Palace Yard. As the money in 
this instance would be forthcoming not from 
the purse of a railway company, but from 
the coffers of the State, it is not probable 
the scheme will meet with the warm 
approval bestowed upon the passage under 
Bridge Street Moreover, objection may 
reasonably be taken on behalf of the Man 
in the Street During Mr. Gladstone's 
Premiership it was the daily delight of a 
crowd lining Downing Street, and of another 
clustered opposite the gates of Palace Yard, 
to await the coming of the veteran states- 
man. Had he, enticed by the privacy and 
shelter of the subway, gone underground, 
much innocent pleasure and excitement 
would have been lost Nor would the 
public to-day willingly let die the oppor- 
tunity of seeing Mr. Arthur Balfour, with 
long, swinging stride, and a pleasant smile 
on his still boyish face, pass daily through 
the Session on his way to the House of 
parvenu * n ^ e Polished Otters of the 
peers in ' ate Archbishop Magee there are 
several indications, scratched by 
a ruthlessly sharp pen, of the 
heartburning that underlies the 
ordinary placid appearance of the House of 
Lords. " I am thoroughly sick of episcopal 
life in Parliament," moans Dr. Magee, after 
he had sat in it for ten years as Bishop of 
Peterborough. " We are hated by the Peers 
as a set of parvenus whom they would gladly 


rid themselves of if they dare, and only 
allowed on sufferance to speak now and then 
on Church questions after a timid and 
respectful sort." 

Dr. Magee addressing any body of his 
fellow-creatures in timid and respectful atti- 
tude does not immediately jump with con- 
clusions formed in reminiscence of his 
ordinary manner. The suggestion shows 
how deeply he was moved. 

Differences in custom of debate 
tend to make things harder for an 


undesirable speaker in the House 
of Lords than for one similarly 
esteemed in the House of Commons. Though 
the Lord Chancellor is titularly Speaker, and, 
better still for Lord Halsbury, has a 
special salary of ^4,000 a year as such, he 
has not any of that autocratic authority 
exercised by the Speaker of the House of 
Commons. On the occasion of big debates, 
the Speaker is accustomed to receive sugges- 
tions from the Whips on either side as to 
the persons who shall take part in the dis- 
cussion, and the order in which they follow. 
But the communication is strictly in the form 
of a suggestion, leaving unquestioned the 
Speaker's absolute right to make selection. 
In the House of Lords there is no such pro- 
cedure as that known in the other House as 
u catching the Speaker's eye." On ordinary 
occasions noble lords desiring to take part in 
a debate plunge in whenever they please. 
In the House of Commons, if two or more 
members rise at the same moment, the 
Speaker calls on one, and the others promptly 
resume their seats. In the House of Lords, 
if two peers rise at the same moment and 
neither will give way, the difficulty can be got 
over only by formal motion made that Lord 

A or Lord B be heard. 

On big field-nights, such as the second 
reading of the Home Rule Bill or the Irish 
Land Bill, the list of speakers on one side, 
and the order of their appearance, is drawn up 
by Lord Salisbury, a similar list being pre- 
pared by the Leader of the party opposite. 
These lists serve as stone walls against the 
desire of any Lord of Parliament who may 
desire to enjoy his birthright by addressing 
his peers. 

In the debate on the second 
reading of the Irish Land Bill, 
passed by Lord Salisbury's 
Government, an Irish Law Lord 
who knows the question thoroughly, and 
whose racy speech is much relished by the 
House and the public, regarded it as a matter 
of course that he would be expected to take 





part in the de- 
bate. He was, 

accordingly, at 

some pains to 

pre pare a 

speech pre 

sumably full of 

good things. 


where he was 

to come in, he 

was quietly told 

that he would 

not be wanted. 
"So," he says, 

with a twinkle 

in his eye and a richer note in his brogue, 

41 I'm saving this speech up for the next 

Irish I^nd Bill a Conservative Government 

will bring in*" 

It seems natural enough that a 
clergyman, albeit an archbishop. 

CHEERFUL P ' , I fc , r . , " 

projected into the political arena, 
should be possessed with that 
feeling of chilliness in the atmosphere of the 
House of Lords which Dr. Magee indicates 
in the passage quoted. But it affects even 
lawyers, A short time before his death the 
first Lord Coleridge, talking to me about the 

!-ORl> MORH1S. 


House of Lords, said : " I have had my 
seat there now for more than a dozen years. 
But when at this day I rise to speak 1 have 
something of the feeling that chilled me 
at my first essay. Making a set speech 
in the House of Lords is like getting up 
in a churchyard and addressing the tomb- 

a coLLnouv T ^ e P ros l >ect °f Lorc * Charles 

' Beresford returning to the House 

of Commons, a happy event not 

ADMIRALTY. ri , , , ' j V . n t 

likely to be long deferred, nutters 
the Admiralty with pleased anticipation. As 
seen from Whitehall, it is doubtful whether 
Lord Charles, being In Parliament, is better 
in office or out of it Out of it he is always 
cruising round, continually threatening to 
run down the First Lords' frigate with his 
saucy gunboat. In office he is not any 
more tractable. 

He tells a charming story of what happened 
to him u when I was at the Admiralty." 

"One morning/' Lord Charles says, "a 
clerk came in with a wet quill pen, and said r 
1 Good-morning. Will you sign the Estimates 
of the year ? ' I said : * What ! J He said : 
4 Will you sign the Estimates for the year? 1 
I said: 'My good man, I have not seen 
them.' * Oh, well,' he said, shoving a little 
astern, ' the other Lords have signed them. 
It will be very in- 
convenient if voti 
don't/ ' I'm very 
sorry,? I said. 
"I'm afraid I'm 
altogether incon- 
venient in this 
place. Certainly I 
sha'n't sign Esti- 
mates Fve not 
seen/ * I must 
go and tell the 
First Lord/ said 
the horrified clerk. 
I assured him I 
didn't care a fig 
whom he told. 
Being at the time 
the Coal Lord, I 
knew the coal was 
not half enough 
to supply the fleet 
as it stood, and 
the fleet wasn't 
near enough the strength it ought to be. 
So I flatly refused to sign, and the Estimates 
were brought into the House without my 
signature. The omission was noted and an 
explanation demanded. l Really/ said the 
First Lord, 'it does not matter whether the 
Junior Lord signs the Estimates or does 
not/ " 


Mr. Sydney Gedge has thought 
out a means of saving public 
time in the House of Commons, 
which he will, in the course of 

,he "fffe^TTflFfflte.lf House ,0 




embody in a Standing Order. It is aimed 
against the practice of a few recalcitrant 
members insisting upon dividing when their 
chances of prevailing in the lobby are 
ludicrously hopeless. A division taken in 
ordinary circumstances with a full House 
and only a moderate majority occupies a 
minimum of ten minutes. If the minority 
is exceptionally small and the House is full 
when the division bell rings, the time taken 
is longer, since a larger crowd of members 
throng one lobby. 

This is an opportunity not lost upon 
obstructionists, who when they tire of talking 
have only to challenge a division, which 
secures for them a little wholesome exercise, 
combined with a waste of ten minutes of 
public time. 

Mr. Gedge proposes that the Speaker, or 
if the House is in Committee the Chairman, 
may, after putting the question a second time 
and finding his opinion challenged, call for a 
show of hands. He may thereupon declare 
whether the " ayes " or " noes " have it, his 
decision to be final. In order to gratify the 
desire of members to see their names in the 
division list, Mr. Gedge further proposes that 
members may write their names, with the 
word "aye " or " no," on a card provided for 
the purpose, and deposit it in a box, the 
votes so signified to be printed in the division 

There is already in existence a 
fore- Standing Order designed to effect 

stalled, the purpose Mr. Gedge has at 
heart. In accordance with it, 
the Speaker, or Chairman of Committees, 
regarding a division as frivolously claimed, 
may direct those clamouring for it to stand 
up in their places. The Committee clerks 
are summoned ; the names of members on 
their feet are ticked off, and are printed with 
the votes on the following day. 

This is an excellent rule, calculated to 
save time and to rebuke petulant obstruction. 
It is, however, very rarely invoked. Since it 
was added to the Order Book, successive 
Speakers and Chairmen of Committees have 
declined habitually to use it. They think it 
better to waste ten minutes of public time 
than to incur the reproach of limiting 
the freedom of duly elected members to 
take a division. 

Once last Session Mr. Weir suc- 

frivolous ceeded in provoking the Chair- 

divisions. man of Committees to put in 

force the Standing Order. In 

Committee of Supply he, lamenting the slack 

attendance of Her Majesty's ships in the 

neighbourhood of the Hebrides, moved to 
reduce Mr. Goschen's salary by the sum of 
^1,500. The Chairman, putting the question, 
declared the " noes " had it. Mr. Weir 
insisted on the contrary, and claimed a 
division. Thereupon, the Chairman directed 
the " ayes " to stand up. Nine members, 
including Mr. Caldwell and Dr. Tanner, 
supported Mr. Weir. 

It was a significant circumstance that on 
the next vote Dr. Tanner made a motion at 
least as frivolous. But the Chairman did 
not again have recourse to the Standing 
Order. In the division that followed the 
minority was eight. Whence it would appear 
that the challenge for a division was one- 
ninth more frivolous than the one upon which 
the Chairman had taken action. 

New members prominent in the 
the new proceedings of last Session, when 
members, they formed a considerable 
leavening of the whole, are this 
Session notable for the absence of peculiari- 
ties. Last year, more particularly in the 
early months, hardly a night passed but some 
new member was discovered walking out to 
a division with his hat on, or, strolling up the 
floor, unconcernedly walking between the 
speaker on his legs and the Speaker in 
the Chair. Probably no man ever does that 
twice. The blood-curdling roar of contumely 
that follows on his undesigned indiscretion is 
enough to make him walk warily for the rest 
of his legislative life. But many new 
members came to Westminster after the 
General Election of 1895, and a succession 
of them fell into the trap. 

The most delightful incident in 
the evolution of new members of 
the present Parliament stands to 
the credit of a member who sits 
above the gangway on the Opposition 
benches. Very early after taking the oath he 
resolved to make his maiden speech. Im- 
pressed with the respect due to the Mother 
of Parliaments, he considered what he should 
do in order properly to render it. Discussing 
with himself various suggestions, he finally 
resolved that before he rose to catch the 
Speaker's eye he would have his hair curled. 
One afternoon, to the astonishment of 
members in his immediate neighbourhood, 
he came down oiled and curled like an 
Assyrian bull. Unfortunately, the delicate 
attention he had paid to the House was not 
reciprocated by the Speaker. Up to dinner 
time, whenever a member taking part in the 
debate resumed his seat, a curled head was 



1 66 


voice issuing from below the fringe said, 
" Mr. Speaker ! " But the owner was per- 
sistently ignored. 

Wearied by reiterated effort and con- 
tinual disappointment, he went out about the 
dinner hour to get some refreshment, He 
was back early in fresh quest of opportunity* 
But,even in the more favourable circumstances 
of lessened attendance and reduced com- 
petition^ he did not get his chance. New 
members have a prescriptive right to prece- 
dence over all but the giants of debate. On 
this occasion new members seemed, with 
one accord, to have agreed to seize the 

It was eleven o'clock before the member 
above the gangway was called upon, by 
which time, partly owing to the heat of 
the atmosphere, partly to extreme mental 
perturbation, his hair was almost entirely out 
of curl But the attention was well meant, 
and was much appreciated by members who 
in the course of the evening possessed them- 
selves of the secret. 

It was another new member, 

a new fresh from Ireland, who, in the 

word, heat of oratory, flashed forth a 
new and delightfully expressive 
Gerald Bat- 

single man. The anonymous writer goes 
as far back as the time of William the Con- 
queror with his favourite Minister, Odo t 
Bishop of Bayeux, and passing through 
succeeding reigns, shows how A'Beckett, 
Hubert de Burgh, Mortimer, Somerset, 
Buckingham, and others placed in supreme 
power by the personal affection of the 
Sovereign, brought their country to the 
verge of ruin. 

The gem of the work is reserved for the 
end, where the author, summarizing the history 
of Prime Ministers, shows how fearsome was 
their fate. Here is his list made out in the 
fashion of a butcher's weekly account for 
meat : — 

]>vn by Ihu Halter 3 

Ditto by the Axe ,.,„,>. 10 

Ditto by Sturdy Beggars 3 

Ditto untimely by privalc Hands. ♦.♦ 2 

I y^'U) in Imprisonment 4 

Ditto in Exile , 4 

Ditto Penitent , + 1 

Saved by Sacrificing their Master ...... 4 

Sum Total of Pkime Ministers. 


word. Mr. 
four had 
assent to 

declined to 
one of the 
many proposals formu- 
lated ljv rival factions 
below the gangway op- 

■'Sir," said Mr. Mur- 
naghan, fixing the 
Minister with flaming 
eye, 41 1 can tell the 
Chief Secretary that his 
message will be received 
in Ireland with can stir- 
pat ton" 

A friendly 
a fearful reader of 
warning, these discur- 
sive pages 
sends me, as a token of 

1 ' *' GI 

hts esteem, a rare pam- 
phlet whose well-thumbed condition testifies 
to the interest it has excited* " A Short 
History of Prime Ministers in Great Britain" 
is its title, the imprint showing that it was 
u done by H, Haines, at Mr, Francklin's, 
in Russell Street, Coven t Garden, 1733." 

The history, much condensed, is designed 
to show how fatal for a nation's welfare is the 
delegation of kingiy rule to the hands of a 


Like Captain Bunsby's remarks* the bear- 
ing of the pamphleteer's observations lies in 
the application thereof. Only one reference 
is made to current poli- 
tics, "It would scarce 
have been safe," he 
writes, " I am sure it 
would not have been 
prudent, thus to entertain 
the Ptiblick with the dis- 
mal Consequences, that 
have hitherto followed, 
upon vesting all Power in 
One Man, But at a Time 
like 7J4/V, when it is the 
joy of all good Men to 
see that there is no one 
Prime Minister at the 
Helm ; but that several 
equally able, equally vir- 
tuous, a ttd great Men 
jointly draw on the well- 
ballanced Machine of 
Stale, which therefore 
cannot, as I pray it may not, totter." 

The wicked slyness of the pamphleteer is 
realized when we recall the <act that at the 
time he launched his artfully prepared dart, 
Sir Robert Walpole was first Lord of the 
Treasury and Chancellor of the Exchequer, 
had held the position for twelve years, and 
seemed likely, as indeed the event proved, to 
retain it for nine years longer. 
Original from 


^pi&OD£, 05 

By Grant Allen. 

EY," my brother-in-law said 
next spring, "I'm sick and 
tired of London ! Lets 
shoulder our wallets at once, 
and I will to some distant 
land, where no man doth 
me know," 

11 Mars or Mercury ? " I inquired ; " for, 
in our own particular planet, I'm afraid you 11 
find it just a trifle difficult for Sir Charles 
Vandrift to hide his light under a bushel" 

"Oh, Til manage it," Charles answered. 
"What's the good of being a millionaire, I 
should like to know, if youYe always obliged 
to * behave as sich J ? I shall travel incog. 
I'm dog-tired of being dogged by these 
endless impostors." 

And, indeed, we had passed through a 
most painful winter. Colonel Clay had 
stopped away for some months, it is true, and 
for my own part, I will confess, since it 
wasn't my place to pay the piper, I rather 
missed the wonted excitement than other- 
wise. But Charles had grown horribly and 
morbidly suspicious. He carried out his 
principle of " distrusting everybody and dis- 
believing everything," till life was a burden to 
him* He spotted impossible Colonel Clays 
under a thousand disguises ; he was quite 
convinced he had frightened his enemy 
away at least a dozen times over, beneath 
the varying garb of a fat club waiter, 
a tall policeman, a washerwoman's boy, 
a solicitor's clerk, the Bank of England 
beadle, and the collector of water-rates, He 
saw him as constantly, and in as changeful 
forms, as mediaeval saints used to see the 

devil Amelia and I really began to fear for 
the stability of that splendid intellect ; we 
foresaw that unless the Colonel Clay nuisance 
could be abated somehow, Charles might 
sink by degrees to the mental level of a 
common or ordinary Stock- Exchange plunger. 

So, when my brother-in-law announced his 
intention of going away incog, to parts 
unknown, on the succeeding Saturday, Amelia 
and I felt a flush of relief from long-continued 
tension. Especially Amelia — who was not 
going with him. 

"For rest and quiet," he said to us at 
breakfast , laying down the Morning Post^ 
"give me the deck of an Atlantic liner ! No 
letters ; no telegrams. No stocks ; no shares* 
No Times ; no Saturday. I'm sick of these 
papers ! ,J 

"The World is too much with us," I 
assented, cheerfully. I regret to say, nobody 
appreciated the point of my quotation. 

Charles took infinite pains, I must admit, 
to insure perfect secrecy. He made me 
write and secure the best state-rooms — main 
deck, amidships — under my own name, 
without mentioning his, in the Eiruria, for 
New York, on her very next voyage- He 
spoke of his destination to nobody but 
Amelia ; and Amelia warned CtSsarine, under 
pains and penalties, on no account to betray 
it to the other servants. Further to secure 
his incog., Charles assumed the style and 
title of Mr, Peter Porter, and booked as such 
in the Eiruria at Liverpool 

The day before starting, however, he went 
down with me to the City for an interview 
with his brokers in Adam's Court, Old Broad 



Street Finglemore, the senior partner, 
hastened, of course, to receive us. As we 
entered his private room, a good-looking 
young man rose and lounged out. " Halloa, 
Finglemore," Charles said, " that's that scamp 
of a brother of yours ! I thought you had 
shipped him off years and 
years ago to China ? " 

" So I did, Sir Charles," 
Finglemore answered, 
rubbing his hands some- 
what nervously, li But he 
never went there. Being 
an idle young dog, with a 
taste for amusement, he 
got for the time no 
farther than Paris, Since 
then, he's hung about a 
bit, here, there, and every- 
where, and done no par- 
ticular good for himself 
or his family. But about 
three or four years ago he 
somehow * struck ile ' : he 
went to South Africa, 
poaching on your pre- 
serves ; and now he's back 
again — rich, married, and 
respectable. His wife, a 
nice little woman, has re- 
formed him. — Well, what 
can I do for you this 
morning ? " 

Charles has large 
interests in America, in 
Santa ¥i and Topekas, 
and other big concerns ; 
and he insisted on taking out several docu- 
ments and vouchers connected in various 
ways with his widespread ventures there. 
He meant to go, he said, for complete rest 
and change, on a general tour of private 
inquiry — Slew York, Chicago, Colorado, the 
mining districts, It was a millionaire's 
holiday, So he took all these valuables in a 
black japanned dispatch-box, which he 
guarded like a child with absurd precautions. 
He never allowed that box out of his sight 
one moment ; and he gave me no peace as 
to its safety and integrity. It was a perfect 
fetish. " We must be cautious," lie said, 
"Sey, cautious! Especially in travelling. 
Recollect how that little curate spirited the 
diamonds out of Amelia's jewel-case ! I 
shall not let this box out of my sight I 
shall stick to it myself, if we go to the 

We did not go to the bottom. It is the 
proud boast of the Cunard Company that it 

fjnglemore's brother*" 

has " never lost a passenger's life " ; and the 
captain would not consent to send the 
Etruria to Davy Jones's locker, merely in 
order to give Charles a chance of sticking to 
his dispatch-box under trying circumstances. 
On the contrary, we had a delightful and 
uneventful passage ; and 
we found our fellow-pas- 
sengers most agreeable 
people. Charles, as Mr. 
Peter Porter, being freed 
for the moment from his 
terror of Colonel Clay, 
would have felt really 
happy, I believe— had it 
not been for the dispatch- 
box. He made friends 
from the first hour (quite 
after the careless old 
fashion of the days before 
Colonel Clay had begun 
to embitter life for him) 
with a nice American 
doctor and his charming 
wife, on their way back 
to Kentucky, Dr, Elihu 
Quackenboss — thit was 
his characteristically 
American name — had 
been studying medicine 
for a year in Vienna, and 
was now returning to his 
native State with a brain 
close crammed with all 
the latest bacteriological 
and antiseptic discoveries. 
His wife* a pretty and 
piquant little American, with a tip tilted 
nose and the quaint sharpness of her 
countrywomen, amused Charles not a little. 
The funny way in which she would make 
room for him by her side on the bench 
on deck, and say, with a sweet smile, " You 
sit right here, Mr, Porter ; the sun f s just 
elegant/' delighted and flattered him* He 
was proud to find out that female attention 
was not always due to his wealth and title ; 
and that plain Mr, Porter could command 
on his merits the same amount of blandish- 
ments as Sir Charles Vandrift, the famous 
millionaire, on his South African celebrity. 

During the whole of that voyage, it was 
Mrs. Quackenboss here, and Mrs. Quacken- 
boss there, and Mrs. Quackenboss the other 
place, till, for Amelia's sake, I was glad she 
was not on board to witness it. Long before 
we sighted Sandy Hook, I will admit, I was 
fairly sick of Charles's two-stringed harp — 



Mrs, Quackenboss, it turned out, was an 
amateur artist, and she painted Sir Charles, 
on calm days on deck, in all possible attitudes. 
She seemed to find him a most attractive 

The doctor, too, was a precious clever 
fellow. He knew something of chemistry 
—find of most other subjects, including, as I 
gathered, the human character. For he 
talked to Charles about various ideas of his, 
with which he wished to "liven up folks in 
Kentucky a bit " on his return, till Charles 
conceived the highest possible regard for his 
intelligence and enterprise. ** That's a go- 
ahead fellow, Sey ! " he remarked to me one 
day. " Has the right sort- of grit in him \ 
These Americans are the men, Wish I hnd 
a round hundred of them on my works in 
South Africa ! " 

That idea seemed to grow upon him. He 
was immensely taken with it. He had lately 
dismissed one of his chief superintendents 
at the Cloetedorp mine, and he seriously 
debated whether or not he should offer 
the post to the smart Kentuckian. For my 
own part, I am inclined to connect this fact 
with his expressed determination to visit his 
South African undertakings for three months 
yearly in future; and I am driven to suspect 
he felt life at Cloetedorp would be rendered 
much more tolerable by the agreeable 
society of a quaint and amusing American 

** If you offer it to him," I said, u remember, 
you must disclose your personality/' 

"Not at all," Charles answered. U I can 
keep it dark for the present* till all is arranged 

for. I need only say I have interests in 
South Africa/ 5 

So, one morning on deck, as we were 
approaching the Banks, he broached his 
scheme gently to the doctor and Mrs, 
Qua cken boss. He remarked that he was 
connected with one of the biggest financial 
concerns in the Southern hemisphere \ and 
that he would pay Elihu fifteen hundred a 
year to represent him at the diggings. 

li What, dollars ? ^ the lady said, smiling and 
accentuating the tip-tilted nose a little more. 
" Oh, Mr. Porter, it ain't good enough ! J * 

tf No, pounds, my dear madam," Charles 
responded. "Pounds sterling, you know: 
In United States currency, seven thousand 
five hundred." 

"I guess Klihu would just jump at it," 
Mrs, Quae ken boss replied, looking at him 

The doctor laughed "You make a good 
bid, sir," he said, in his slow American way, 
emphasizing all the most unimportant words : 
** But you overlook one element. I am a 
man of science, not a speculator, I have 
trained myself for medical work, at con- 
siderable cost, in the best schools of Europe, 
and I do not propose to fling away the results 
of much arduous labour by throwing myself 
out elastically into a new line of work for 
which my faculties may not perhaps equally 
adapt me." 

("Haw thoroughly American!" I mur- 
mured, in the background.) 

Charles insisted ; all in vain, Mrs 
Quae ken boss was impressed ; but the doctor 
smiled always a sphinx-like smile, and re- 

VoL xiiL-22. 





iterated his belief in the unfitness of mid- 
stream as an ideal place for swopping horses. 
The more he declined, and the better he 
talked, the more eager Charles became each 
day to secure him. And, as if on purpose 
to draw him on, the doctor each day gave 
more and more surprising proofs of his prac- 
tical abilities. " I am not a specialist," he 
said. "I just ketch the drift, appropriate 
the kernel, and\tt the rest slide." 

He could do anything, it really seemed, from 
shoeing a mule to conducting a camp-meet- 
ing; he was a capital chemist, a very sound 
surgeon, a fair judge of horseflesh, a first- 
class euchre player, and a pleasing baritone. 
When occasion demanded, he could occupy 
a pulpit. He had invented a corkscrew, 
which brought him in a small revenue ; and 
he was now engaged in the translation of a 
Polish work, on the "Application of Hydro- 
cyanic Acid to the Cure of leprosy." 

Still, we reached New York without having 
got any nearer our goal, as regarded Dr. 
Quackenboss. He came to bid us good-bye 
at the quay, with that sphinx-like smile still 
playing upon his features. Charles clutched 
the dispatch-box with one hand, and Mrs. 
Quackenboss's little palm with the other. 

"Don't tell us," he said, "this is good-bye 
— for ever ! " And his voice quite faltered. 

" I guess so, Mr. Porter," the pretty 
American replied, with a telling glance. 
11 What hotel do you patronize ? " 

" The Murray Hill," Charles responded. 

" Oh, my, ain't that odd ? " Mrs. Quacken- 
boss echoed. "The Murray Hill! Why, 
that's just where we're going, too, Elihu ! " 

The upshot of which was that Charles 
persuaded them, before returning to Kentucky, 
to diverge for a few days with us to Lake 
George and I^ake Champlain, where he 
hoped to over-persuade the recalcitrant 

To I^ake George therefore we went, and 
stopped at the excellent hotel at the terminus 
of the railway. We spent a good deal of our 
time on the light little steamers that ply 
between that point and the road to Ticon- 
deroga. Somehow, the mountains mirrored 
in the deep green water reminded me of 
Lucerne ; and Lucerne reminded me of the 
little curate. For the first time since we left 
England, a vague terror seized me. Could 
Elihu Quackenboss be Colonel Clay again, 
still dogging our steps through the opposite 
continent ? 

I could not help mentioning my suspicion 
to Charles — who, strange to say, pooh-poohed 
it. He had been paying great court to Mrs. 

Quackenboss that day, and was absurdly 
elated because the little American had rapped 
his knuckles with her fan and called him " a 
real silly." 

Next day, however, an odd thing occurred. 
We strolled out together, all four of us, along 
the banks of the lake, among woods just 
carpeted with strange, triangular flowers — 
trilliums, Mrs. Quackenboss called them — 
and lined with delicate ferns in the first green 
of springtide. 

I began to grow poetical. (I wrote 
verses in my youth, before I went to 
South Africa.) We threw ourselves on the 
grass, near a small mountain stream that 
descended among moss-clad boulders from 
the steep woods above us. The Kentuckian 
flung himself at full length on the sward, 
just in front of Charles. He had a strange 
head of hair, very thick and shaggy. I don't 
know why, but, of a sudden, it reminded me 
of the Mexican Seer, whom we had learned 
to remember now as Colonel Clay's first 
embodiment. At the same moment, the 
same thought seemed to run through Charles's 
head; for, strange to say, with a quick 
impulse he leant forward and examined it. 
I saw Mrs. Quackenboss draw back in 
wonder. The hair looked too thick and 
close for nature. It ended abruptly, I now 
remembered, with a sharp line on the fore- 
head. Could this, too, be a wig ? It seemed 
very probable. 

Even as I thought that thought, Charles 
appeared to form a sudden and resolute 
determination. With one lightning swoop, 
he seized the doctor's hair in his powerful 
hand, and tried to lift it off bodily. He had 
made a bad guess. Next instant the doctor 
uttered a loud and terrified howl of pain, 
while several of his hairs, root and all, came 
out of his scalp in Charles's hand, leaving a 
few drops of blood on the skin of the head in 
the place they were torn from. There was 
no doubt at all it was not a wig, but the 
Kentuckian's natural hirsute covering ! 

The scene that ensued, I am powerless to 
describe. My pen is unequal to it. The 
doctor arose, not so much angry as astonished, 
white, and incredulous. "What did you 
do that for, any way?" he asked, glaring 
fiercely at my brother-in-law. Charles was all 
abject apology. He began by profusely 
expressing his regret, and offering to make 
any suitable reparation, monetary or other- 
wise. Then he revealed his whole hand. 
He admitted that he was Sir Charles Vandrift, 
the famous millionaire, and that he had 
suffered egregiously from the endless machin- 




ations of a certain Colonel Clay, a machia- 
vellian rogue, who had hounded him relent- 
lessly round the capitals of Europe. He 
described in graphic detail how the impostor 
got himself up with wigs and wax, so as to 
deceive even those who knew him intimately; 
and then, he threw himself on Dr. Quacken- 
boss's mercy, as a man who had been cruelly 
taken in so often that he could not help 
suspecting the best of men falsely. Mrs. 
Quackenboss admitted it was natural to have 
suspicions — " Especially,' 1 she said, with 
candour, "as you're not the first to observe 
the notable way Elihu's hair seems to originate 
from his forehead," and she pulled it up to 
show us. But Elihu himself sulked on in the 
dumps : his dignity was offended, " Jf you 
wanted to know/ 1 he said, " you might as well 
have asked me* Assault and battery is not 
the right way to test whether a citizen's hair 
is primitive or acquired." 

"It was an impulse," Charles pleaded; 
11 an instinctive impulse ! n 

41 Civilized man restrains his impulses," the 
doctor answered. " You have lived too long 
in South Africa, Mr. Porter — I mean, Sir 
Charles Vandrift, if that's the right way to 
address such a gentleman. You appear to 
have imbibed the habits and manners of the 
Kaffirs you lived among." 

For the next two days, I will really admit, 
Charles seemed more wretched than I could 
believe it possible for him to be on some- 
body else's account. He positively grovelled. 
The fact was, he saw he had hurt Dr. 

Quae ken boss's feelings, and — much to my 
surprise — he seemed truly grieved at it. If 
the doctor would have accepted a thousand 
pounds down to shake hands at once and for- 
get the incident — in my opinion Charles would 
have gladly paid it Indeed, he said as 
much in other words to the pretty American 
— for he could not insult her by offering her 
money. Mrs. Quackenboss did her best to 
make it up, for she was a kindly little crea- 
ture, itl spite of her roguishness ; but Elihu 
stood aloof Charles urged him still to go 
out to South Africa, increasing his bait to 
two thousand a year ; yet the doctor 
was immovable. "No, no," he said; 
" I had half decided to accept your offer — 
//// that unfortunate impulse; but that 
settled the question; As an American 
citizen, I decline to become the representative 
o/vl British nobleman who takes such means 
of investigating questions which affect the 
hair and happiness ofh\% fellow-creatures." 

I don't know whether Charles was most 
disappointed at missing the chance of so 
clever a superintendent for the mine at 
Cloetedorp, or elated at the novel description 
of himself as "a British nobleman." Which 
is not precisely our English idea of a colonial 

Three days later, accordingly, the Quacken- 
bosses left the lakeside Hotel We were 
bound on an expedition up the lake ourselves, 
when the pretty little woman burst in with a 
dash, to tell us they were leaving, She was 
charmingly got up f.n the neatest and 


J 7 2 


eompletest of American travelling-dresses. 
Charles held her hand affectionately, " I'm 
sorry it's good-bye," he said. " I have done 
my best to secure your husband." 

"You couldn't have tried harder than I 
did," the little woman answered, and the tip- 
tilted nose looked quite pathetic ; " for I just 

we had found the cigarette-case, and returned 
to the sitting-r&om — lo, and behold ! the 
d ispa t e h -box w a s missing! Charles ques- 
tioned the servants, but none of them had 
noticed it. He searched round the room — 
not a i race of it anywhere. 

"Why, I laid it down here just two 

"the pretty little WOMAN BUKST IN.' 

hate to be buried right down there in Ken- 
tucky ! However, Elihu is the sort of man 
a woman can neither drive nor lead ; so 
we've got to put up with him." And she 
smiled upon us sweetly, and disappeared 
for even 

Charles was disconsolate all that day. 
Next morning he rose, and announced his 
intention of setting out for the West on his 
tour of inspection. He would recreate by 
revelling in Colorado silver lodes. 

We packed our own portmanteaus, for 
Charles had not brought even Simpson with 
him, and then we prepared to set out by the 
morning train for Saratoga. 

Up cill almost the last moment Charles 
nursed his * dispatch - box. But as the 
" baggage-Smashers "' were taking down our ■ 
luggage, and a chambermaid was lounging 
officiously about in search of a tip, he laid it 
down "for a second or two on the centre 
table while he collected his other immediate 
impedimenta* He couldn't find his cigarette- 
case, and went back to the bedroom for it. 
I helped him hunt, but it had disappeared 
mysteriously. That moment lost him. When 

minutes ago!" he cried. But it was not 

"It'll turn up in time/* I said. "Every- 
thing turns up in the end —including Mrs. 
Quack en boss's nose." 

" Seymour," said my brother-in-law, " your 
hilarity is inopportune." 

To say the truth, Charles was beside himself 
with anger. He took the elevator down to the 
"Bureau," as they call it, and complained to 
the manager. The manager, a sharp- faced 
New Yorker, smiled as he remarked in a 
nonchalant way that guests with valuables 
were required to leave them in charge of the 
management, in which case they were locked 
up in the safe and duly returned to the 
depositor on leaving. Charles, declared some- 
what excitedly that he had been robbed > and 
demanded that nobody should be allowed to 
leave the hotel till the dispatch-box was 
recovered. The manager, quite cool, and 
obtrusively picking his teeth, responded that 
such tactics might be possible in an hotel of 
the European size, putting up a couple of 
hundred guests or so ; 

but that an American 

■"""wHfiSrf* hmsd*™-™* 



of whom came and went daily — could not 
undertake such a quixotic quest on behalf of 
a single foreign complainant. 

That epithet, " foreign, " stung Charles to 
the quick. No Englishman can admit that 
he is anywhere a foreigner. " Do you know 
who I am, sir ? " he asked, angrily. " I 
am Sir Charles Vandrift, of London — a 
member of the English Parliament.'' 

"You may be the Prince of Wales," the 
man answered, "for all I care. You'll get 
the same treatment as anyone else, in 
America. But if you're Sir Charles Vandrift," 
he went on T examining his books, " how does 
it come you've registered as Mr, Peter 

Charles grew red with embarrassment The 
difficulty deepened, 

The dispatch-box , always covered with a 
leather case, bore on its inner lid the name 
" Sir Charles Vandrift, K.C.M.G.," distinctly 
painted in the orthodox white letters. This 
was a painful contretemps ; he had lost his 
precious documents ] he had given a false 
name ; and he had rendered the manager 
supremely careless whether or not he recovered 

as to whether they had seen his dispatch-box, 
Most of the visitors resented the question as 
a personal imputation ; one fiery Virginian, 
indeed, wanted to settle the point then and 
there with a six-shooter. Charles telegraphed 
to New York to prevent the shares and 
coupons from being negotiated ; but his 
brokers telegraphed kn-k that, though they 
had stopped the numbers as # far as possible, 
they did so with reluctance, as they were not 
aware of Sir Charles Vandrift being now in 
the country. Charles declared he wouldn't 
leave the hotel till he recovered his property ; 
and for myself, I was inclined to suppose we 
would have to remain there accordingly for 
the term of our natural lives— and longer. 

That night again we spent at the Lakeside 
Hotel. In the small hours of the morning, 
as I lay awake and meditated, a thought 
broke across me* I was so excited by it 
that I rose and rushed into my brother-in- 
law's bedroom. M Charles, Charles ! " I 
exclaimed, 4I we have taken too much for 
granted once more. Perhaps Elihu Quacken- 
boss carried off your dispatch-box ! " 

"You fool," Charles answered, in his most 



his stolen property. Indeed, seeing he had 
registered as Porter, and now M claimed ,? as 
Vandrift. the manager hinted in pretty plain 
language he very much doubted whether 
there had ever been a dispatch-box in the 
matter at all, or whether, if there were 
one, it had ever contained any valuable 

We spent a wretched morning, Charles 
went round the hotel, questioning everybody 

unamiable manner (he applies that word to 
me with increasing frequency-);* u is that 
what you've waked me up for? Why, the 
Quackenbosses left Lake George on Tuesday 
morning, and I had the dispatch box in my 
own hands on Wednesday." 

" We have only their word for it," I cried. 
" Perhaps they stopped on — and walked off 
with it afterwards-!i , i rrtrvs 




Trow,". Charles 



answered. " But I confess I don't think it 
was worth waking me up for. I could stake 
my life on that little woman's integrity." 

We did inquire next morning — with this 
curious result : it turned out that, though the 
Quackenbosses had left the Lakeside Hotel 
on Tuesday, it was only for the neighbouring 
Washington House, which they quitted on 
Wednesday morning, taking the same train 
for Saratoga which Charles and I had 
intended to go by. Mrs. Quackenboss carried 
a small brown paper parcel in her hands — in 
which, under the circumstances, we had little 
difficulty in recognising Charles's dispatch- 
box, loosely enveloped. 

Then I knew how it was done. The 
chambermaid, loitering about the room for a 
tip, was — Mrs. Quackenboss ! It needed but 
an apron to transform her pretty travelling- 
dress into a chambermaid's costume ; and in 
any of those huge American hotels, one 
chambermaid more or less would pass in the 
crowd without fear of challenge. 

"We will follow them on to Saratoga," 
Charles cried. " Pay the bill at once, 

11 Certainly," I answered. " Will you give 
me some money ? " 

Charles clapped his hand to his pockets. 
11 All, all in the dispatch-box ! " he mur- 

That tied us up another day, till we could 
get some ready cash from our agents in New 
York ; for the manager, already most 
suspicious at the change of name and the 
accusation of theft, peremptorily refused to 
accept Charles's cheque, or anything else, as 
he phrased it, except " hard money." So we 
lingered on perforce at Lake George, in 
ignoble inaction. 

" Of course," I observed to my brother-in- 
law that evening, " Elihu Quackenboss was 
Colonel Clay." 

" I suppose so," Charles murmured, 
resignedly. " Everybody I meet seerns to 
be Colonel Clay nowadays— except when I 
believe they are, in which case they turn out 
to be harmless nobodies. But who would 
have thought it was he, after I pulled his 
hair out ? Or after he persisted in his trick, 
even when I suspected him — which, he told 
us at Seldon, was against his first principles ? " 

A light dawned upon me again. But, 
warned by previous ebullitions, I expressed 
myself this time with becoming timidity. 
" Charles," I suggested, " may we not here 
again have been the slaves of a preconcep- 
tion ? We thought Forbes - Gaskell was 
Colonel Clay — for no better reason than 

because he wore a wig. We thought Elihu 
Quackenboss wasn't Colonel Clay — for no 
better reason than because he didn't wear 
one. But how do we know he ever wears 
wigs ? Isn't it possible, after all, that those 
hints he gave us about make-up, when he 
was Medhurst the detective, were framed on 
purpose so as to mislead and deceive us? 
And isn't it possible what he said * of his 
methods at the Seamew's Island that day was 
similarly designed in order to hoodwink us?" 

" That is so obvious, Sey," my brother-in- 
law observed, in a most aggrieved tone, "that 
I should have thought any secretary worth 
his salt would have arrived at it instantly." 

I abstained from remarking that Charles 
himself had not arrived at it even now, until 
I told him. I thought that to say so would 
serve no good purpose. So I merely went on : 
" Well, it seems to me likely that when he 
came as Medhurst, with his hair cut short, he 
was really wearing his own natural crop, 
in its simplest form and of its native 
hue. By now, it has» had time to grow 
long and bushy. When he was David 
Granton, no doubt, he clipped it to an 
intermediate length, trimmed his beard and 
moustache, and dyed them all red, to a fine 
Scotch colour. As the Seer, again, he wore 
his hair much the same as Elihu's ; only, to 
suit the character, more combed and fluffy. 
As the little curate, he darkened it and 
plastered it down. As Von Lebenstein, he 
shaved close, but cultivated his moustache to 
its utmost dimensions, and dyed it black 
after the Tyrolese fashion. He need never 
have had a wig : his own natural hair would 
throughout have been sufficient, allowing for 

" You're right, Sey," my brother-in-law said, 
growing almost friendly. " I will de you the 
justice to admit that's the nearest thing we 
have yet struck out to an idea for tracking 

On the Saturday morning, a letter arrived 
which relieved us a little from our momentary 
tension. It was from our enemy himself — 
but most different in tone from his previous 
bantering communications : — 

"Saratoga, Friday. 

"Sir Charles Vandrift, — Herewith I 
return your dispatch-box, intact, with the 
papers untouched. As you will readily observe, 
it has not even been opened. 

" You will ask the reason for this strange 
conduct. Let me be serious for once, and 
tell you truthfully. 

" White Heather and I (for I will stick to 
Mr. Wentwoithis judicious sobriquet) came 




over 011 the Etruria with you, intending, as 
usual, to make something out of you. We 
followed you to l^ke George — for I had 
1 forced a card, 3 after my habitual plan, by 
inducing you to invite us, with the fixed 
intention of playing a particular trick upon 
you. It formed no part of our original game 
to steal your dispatch-box ; that I consider a 
simple and elementary trick unworthy the skill 
of a practised operator. We persisted in the 
preparations for our, coup^ till you pulled my 
hair out. Then, to my great surprise, I saw 
' you exhibited a degree of regret and genuine 
compunction with which, till that moment, 
I could never have credited you. You thought 
yuu had hurt my feelings ; and you behaved 
mote like a gentle- 
man than I had 
previously known 
you to do. You 
not only apologized, 
but you also endea- 
voured voluntarily 
to make reparation. 
That produced an 
effect upon me* You 
may not believe it, 
but I desisted 
accordingly from 
the trick I had pre- 
pared for you. 

u I might also 
have accepted your 
offer to go to South 
Africa ; where I 
could soon have 
cleared out, having 

embezzled thousands. But, then, I should 
have been in a position of trust and responsi- 
bility — and 1 am not quite rogue enough to 
rob you under those conditions. 

u Whatever else I am, however, I am not 
a hypocrite. I do not pretend to be any- 
thing more than a common swindler. If I 
return you your papers intact, it is only on 
the same principle as that of the Australian 
bushranger, who made a lady a present of 
her own watch, because she had sung to him 
and reminded him of England, In other 
words, he did not take it from her. In like 
manner, when I found you had behaved, for 
once, like a gentleman, contrary to my 
expectation, I declined to go on with the 
trick I then meditated. Which does not 
mean to say I may not hereafter play you 
some other* That will depend upon your 
future good behaviour. 

" Why, then, did I get White Heather to 
purloin your dispatch-box, with intent to 

return it ? Out of pure lightness of heart ? 
Not so ; but in order to let you see I really 
meant it If I had gone off with no swag, 
and then written you this letter, you would 
not have believed me. You would have 
thought it was merely another of my failures 
But when I have actually got all your papers 
into my hands, and give them up again of 
my own free will, you must see that I mean it 

41 1 will end, as I began, seriously. My trade 
has not quite crushed out of me all germs or 
relics of better feeling ; and when I see a 
millionaire behave like a man, I feel a shamed 
to take advantage of that gleam of manliness. 

" Yours, with a tinge of penitence, but still 
a rogue, "Cuthbert Clay." 


The first thing Charles did on receiving 
this strange communication was to bolt 
downstairs, and inquire for the dispatch-box. 
It had just arrived, by Eagle Express Com- 
pany. Charles rushed up to our rooms 
again, opened it feverishly, and counted his 
documents. When he found them all safe, 
he turned to me with a hard smile. * - This 
letter, 1 ' he said, with quivering lips, " I con- 
sider still more insulting than all his previous 

But, for myself, I really thought there was 
a ring of truth about it Colonel Clay was a 
rogue, no doubt — a most unblushing rogue ; 
but even a rogue, I believe, has his better 

And the phrase about the M position of 
tnist and responsibility " touched Charles to 
the quick, I suppose, in re the Slump in 
Cloetedorp Colcondas. Though, to be sure, 
it was a hit at me as well, over the 10 per 


A Living IdoL 

By Framlev Steelcroft. 

\IUustrations from Photos* by George Newn€s\ Limited.] 

HE picturesque figure depicted 
on this page is none other 
than Bava Luehman Dass, 
a Punjabi, and a Brahmin of 
the highest caste— as, indeed, 
anyone may judge for himself 
from the smear of reddish - brown paint 
between the eyes. And Bava's history is 
as picturesque as his personality. 

From this time forward young Bava was 
cut out, nolens vokns^ for a Yoga, Now, the 
requisite training is peculiar and severe, but 
then there is a glorious aftermath of power, 
and free living, and ineffable laziness. One 
has to start early in life for this kind of 
thing, as Bava did. ye was at it forty 
years before he received his diploma ; which 
is the paint-mark aforesaid* A Brahmin 
Yoga, or priest, is able to throw himself at will 
into various postures, in imitation of certain 
idols. When he has attained absolute 
proficiency in this difficult art, he may con- 
sider himself provided with a calling which is 
at once holy and sufficient for all things. 
For the fully qualified Yoga needs neither 
scrip, nor staff, nor purse, nor wallet in the 
journey through life. He just strikes an 
impressive attitude at the street corners, and 
then money and hospitality arc showered 
u poii h i m I n e m bar ras s i n g a b u n d a n ce. Those 
upon whom he quarters himself think they 
are honoured indeed ; and the rich merchants 
vie with one another in offering him presents 
and money. Literally, they idolize the Yoga. 

Be it observed that Bava is straight-limbed 
as a Greek athlete — even if he hasn't the 


When he was but four or five years 
old, the great mutiny convulsed the 
Peninsula from the Himalayas to Cape 
Comorin. Consequently Bava's parents 
suffered. (t They were in a starving 
condition," to quote the words of the 
interpreter ; and they sold their child 
to the mysterious priests that inhabit 
the Black Caves of Central India, The 
purchase price is not known. 




physique. It is important to remember that 
not a single bone of his body is, or ever has 
been, broken. 

No. 2 photo, shows the Yoga in his cus- 
tomary attitude of supplication at the street 
corners -awaiting worshippers, in fact. His 
complicated arms are supposed to be calling 
down all mariner of blessings* For himself 
he has no need to pray> being already a deity. 
He is merely awaiting his call to the Brahmin 
Nirvana, supported meanwhile by the offerings 
of the faithful. It should be understood that 
the Yoga's posturing forms no sort of enter- 
tainment His worshippers do, all the 
entertaining, which usually Likes the sub- 
stantial form of free rations, the best room in 
the house, and liberal offerings of a miscel- 
laneous kind. Not the least interesting or 
momentous episode in the Yoga's chequered 
career was his meeting with a certain rich 
Bombay merchant. They met at the Holy City 
of Benares, where Bava was reaping a grand 
harvest. It occurred to the merchant that, 
if the English people could not be induced 
to idolize the Yoga, they might at least pay 
handsomely to see him go through his forty- 
eight postures, 'Twas a brilliant notion ; 


but would that high caste Brahmin cross 
the kala pani^ or black water of the ocean 
separating India from the West, and mix with 
unclean barbarians ? 

Alas I he would ; it was merely a question 
of vulgar jQ s. d,* By a series of wonderful 
events, more startling than the magic of a 
Hindu sorcerer, the Yoga found himself 
translated from the mysterious Black Caves 
of Central India to a side-show at the 
Westminster Aquarium. Aye, and from there 
to the photographic studio of The Strand 
Magazine. The third posture is a peculiar 
one— posture and motion combined, in fact, 
for the Yoga moves rythmical!)' up and down 
on his left knee-joint. Bava Luehman Dass 
is no showman himself; he is too sad-eyed 
and serious for that blatant calling. But, 
then, consider the circumstances ; why, the 
only analogy I can think of is Dr, Parker 
footing it on the slack wire at the Empire. 

The applause of multitudes is thrown away 
on our living god. One amiable gentleman 
who saw the third photo, taken compared the 
Yoga's posture to a broken umbrella ! And 
yet the human idol made no sign. Possibly 
he was praying for the irreverent scoffer. 

In a serious article like this it is out of 

1 7 8 


place to record much of the flippant talk of 
mere idle spectators. Whilst the Yoga was 
posing for No. 4, on one occasion, a Cockney 
was heard to exclaim that "it was a fine 
mode of pedomotion for a man cursed with 
corns." Others made bets as to whether the 
holy man could or could not beat Mr. 
Harry J. Lawson's latest motor car up a stiff 
hill : 

Certain it is that this remarkable man 
walks miles on the stumps of his knees. 
The pace is surprisingly clastic and fast, but 
there is no ascertainable record. The 
attitude itself is merely one of eloquent 
supplication ; and if that posture would lie 
out of place under the dome of St Paul's, 
we may rest assured that the mere accom- 
plishment of the feat 
— to say nothing of 
the sprinting — is ex- 
ceedingly difficult of 

From what I 
gathered, I came to 
the conclusion that 
when the ghastly 
consciousness that 
he was a side-show 
dawned upon the 
Yoga, he didn't like 
it at all, and nothing 
would induce him to 
go through his sixty 
&r stvtnty perform- 
ances a day but the 
near prospect of a 
return to his own 
native land. On land- 
ing there, his whilom 
" proprietor " would 
advance a certain 
sum of money, which 
would insure his re- 
gaining caste once 

During his forty 
years' probation and 
practice, the budding Yoga ate very little; 
he trained, if I may say so without levity, on 
a very light diet of goat's milk and dried 
fruit— which is good news for vegetarians. 
Of course, I had to interview his interpreter, 
and this gentleman in turn interviewed the 
Bombay merchant aforesaid. That same 
interpreter knew no Hindustani— knew no 
other language, in fact, but his own ; where- 
fore was he called an u interpreter," 

At the same time he knew pretty well 
everything there was to be known about the 

NO. 5- 

Yoga — except what went on in the Black 
Caves, That swarthy mystic is a living 
testimony to the brotherhood of nations. 
Who would suspect him of partaking of tea 
and muffins at five o'clock? True, he made 
both himself in a peculiar manner, and called 
his little cakes by another name. 

The posture shown in the next photograph 
(No. 5} is taken up for the obvious purpose 
of arresting the attention of the passer-by. 
Like all the other attitudes, it is the posture 
of a graven idol, and never fails to inspire 
awe and public benevolence. Only re- 
member that presents are not made to the 
Yoga as alms are given to a beggar ; rather 
as offerings made before the shrine of a god. 
And he is mindful of his dignity* even 
whilst sojourning 
among us barbarians. 
He wouldn't dream 
of lighting his cigar- 
ette from yours, lest 
he should be defiled. 
Indeed T when he first 
came to England he 
would wash himself 
in a curiously uu- 
Oriental manner, 
after being acciden- 
tally touched by one 
of the audience. " I 
happened to touch 
his teacup one day/' 
remarked the inter- 
preter to me ; " and 
when my back was 
turned he took and 
smashed the vessel to 
pieces." He brought 
with him his own 
attendant — on e, 
Monor Dass ; and, 
likewise, his own pro- 
visions — rice, lentils, 
curry, barley* fruits, 
and so on. 

Poor fellow ! he 
huddled himself up over the writer's fire, 
with a look of misery on his pinched face. 
He took a childish interest in such pro- 
ducts of Western civilization as clocks 
and electric light j but he was indifferent 
to the raucous hello wings of those who 
exploited him, Outside his show hung 
a framed cheque for ^S^o, which anyone 
could claim who emulated the Yoga's fearful 
and wonderful contentions, ** Might as well 
make it /,^ T ooo," ^aid a small, fat man, 
admiringly ; !( nobody cu jld ever do them 



NO. & 

tricks," One is inclined to believe the small, 
fat man, on looking at No. 6. One asks 
one's self, " Is it worth while to lead such a 
complicated existence even for the sake of 
ranking as a de mi-god — or even as a whole 
god ? * 

Nowhere did Bava Luchman Dass (how 
like a mild expletive is his name !) meet with 
such an enthusiastic reception as at our great 
hospitals. And, of course, he was taken to 
the hospitals, partly in the interests of science, 
certainly ; but primarily in order that these 
stirring words should be blazoned large on 
his show bill : H Doctors Defied and 
Baffled!" "The Most Stoopkndous 
Marvel of the Age ! " I have said that 
the Brahmin knew nothing of the noble 
art of showmanship. On demand, he would 
go through his postures with the utmost 
ease and perfect gravity, wondering vaguely 
what was the meaning of the uproarious 

At St. George's Hospital an interesting 
lecture on the Yoga was given to the 
anatomical students. Whilst the Brahmin 
went through his postures on the platform, 
one of the professors demonstrated the 
apparent impossibility of the feats by means 
of a hanging skeleton. To the ordinary 
person the demonstrations were interesting 
enough, but the lecture was appalling. 
Referring to the posture shown in No, 2, the 
anatomist remarked, feelingly, " You will 

observe, gentlemen, that the tibia rises 
at least an inch above the condyles of 
the humerus," 

So far as I am able to judge, No- 7 
is the Yoga's customary attitude when 
buried in deep thought. At such times, 
his legs are apt to worry him a little — 
they get in the way, as legs will — so he 
ties them in a tasteful, fancy knot round 
his neck and shoulders, How often it 
happens that at supreme moments the 
voice of the vulgar grates upon the 
sensitive ear of the reverent ! Once, 
whilst the Yoga was in this position, 
Home one was heard to wonder whether 
the Brahmin was puzzling over the 
amount of last night's takings ! 

For the most part, the Brahmin Yogas 
seen in India are repulsive enough. They 
have been known to stand at the road- 
side for years, with one hand or leg 
extended motionless m one position, 
until the sinews and ligaments wither, 
and the limb becomes immovably fixed, 
Their arms, too, are occasionally seen 
shrivelled to mere parchment covered 
bones, with finger-nails growing inches long 
through the palms. 

Others have shrivelled feet and toe-nails 
like the claws of a bird ; and yet others there 
are with huge callosities on their knees, on 
which they have voluntarily walked and 

jmv CrO I T Ur rrtoy-^iafl VA 



cantered for years, as 
is seen in No* 4* If 
in No. 7 the Yoga's 
mind was apparently 
grappling with some 
abstruse calculation, 
the mental crisis has 
evidently become 
more acute in No* 8, 
"Seems ter be wuk- 
kin' wonderful hard/' 
commented one sym- 
pathetic spectator in 
the holy man's audi- 
ence — " fair goin 1 it 
bald-headed, ain't 
he? " Presumably, 
this person referred 
to the fact that the 
Brahmin had re- 
moved his turban* 

It is only to be expected that Bava should 
have a disciple : he had one when I saw 
him — an earnest, dark eyed lad in search 
of an exalted calling -who was already 
perfect in many of the elementary postures. 
Master and disciple 
read the holy books 
together, between 
the demonstrations. 

According to one 
eminent anatomist, 
these marvellous 
contortions are pro- 
duced by a temporary 
dislocation of the 
joints. That the 
feats are anatomi- 
cally marvellous was 
proved by the fact 
that when the gentle- 
man who presided 
at the skeleton 
tried to reproduce 

upon it the Yoga's 
movements, he 
declared he couldn't 
do so without break- 
ing the bones. 

But the brightest 
jewel in the Yoga's 
saintly crown is the 
feat shown in our last 
photo- Observe, not 
only is the man 
twisted up in an extra- 
ordinary manner, but 
he is supporting the 
entire weight of his 
body on the tips of 
his fingers, That he 
remains perfectly 
motionless in this 
extraordinary posture 
is manifest in the 
success of the photograph. 

The fact is that, before the Yoga was 
sent forth from the Black Caves as a duly 
qualified practitioner, he was required to 
remain in this position continuously for sewn 

days and nights! 
And on that memor- 
able occasion he 
had to contemplate 
something far less 
interesting than the 
opulent pattern of 
the editor's Turkey 

Well might this 
remarkable visitor to 
these offices para- 
phrase his Kipling, 
and cry : — 

If pain be the price of 
Yoga -ship, 

Lord God I ha' paid 
it in. 

NO* i /f 

by Google 

Original from 

Portraits of Celebrities at Different Times of their Lives. 

UnMnHIMtaWttV •;.•■■'.',». " ' 

town, Dundee, where he was enthusiastically 
received, and presented with the freedom of 

AGE 17. 


P-C, MP. 
Born 1838. 
HE President of the Board of 
Trade was first returned to Parlia- 
ment as the Conservative repre- 
sentative of Tower Hamlets in 
1874, Having gained a consider- 
able reputation for practical ability and 
conversance with affairs, he was in Lord 
Salisbury's first Ad- 
ministration made 

Secretary to the 
Admiralty. At that 
time he took a promi- 
nent part in the 
agitation against 
foreign bounties on 
sugar, and in Lord 
Salisbury's second 
Administration he 
was appointed Presi- 
dent of the Local 
Government Board, 
In 1888 his Local 
Government Bill, 
which he success- 
fully piloted through 
Parliament, gained 
him considerable re- 
putation, and in 
October of that year 
he visited his native 

AGE 35, 

/■V-f/i a t%,t.- by J. Ahbot, httfvUt 


Frvm a Photo. b*&,F,L, Phtllipi, 

the borough. It is said 
that Mr. Ritchie studied 
" I, oca I Government " 
more than Tower Ham- 
lets 3 and hence, in 1892, 
he failed to secure re- 
election, but Mr, Sidney 
Herbert, succeeding to 
.the peerage in 1S95, 
fljpffifc him a safe seat at 







Born 1821, 
ff^^^lHE record of Admiral Sir Charles 
Hay, Vice-President of the Institu- 
tion of Naval Architects, almost 
takes one's breath away ; here are 
some of the salient points in his 
career. He entered the Navy in 1834, and 
defended Port Elizabeth in the first Kaffir 
War. In 1840 he took part in the operations 
on the Syrian Coast, He was at the capture 
of Bey rout and of Acre, and at the boat attack 
011 Tortosa, also at the operations in Borneo. 

From a] A age 3a [Photograph, 

He commanded the W 'otverine and Columbine 
in China, and was senior officer in ihe opera- 
tions against the pirate Beet of Chinapoo, 

1 a FMtx by] 

age 61. 

(Fraddle. Regent SL 

which he destroyed in Bias Bay in 1849. 
He commanded H.M. Hannibal in the 
Black and Mediterranean Seas during the 
Russian War of 1 8 54 56, and commanded 
the Indus in North America and the West 
Indies from 1857 to 1859, He has repre- 
sented various constituencies in Parliament, 
and is the author of several standard books- 
He retired from the Navy in 1870, 

ft—UWWttlbl I V«ttki*rtMffHKj^*.***™«« 




(Mrs. Silver). 

O speak Latin, 
French, German 
and Italian, to 
paint in oil ant 
water colours, 

write short stories for 

the magazines, be an ac- 

a 1 that," and her unrepentant villainy 

■ 11 the stage contrasts vividly wilh 

,v her uniform amiability in private 

jflk life. Although she made her 

debut somewhere about iSE8, 

she has already played in an 

amazing number of pieces. She 

first "came out" in London, as 

Mrs. Harkaway, in "Partners," 

FfutN Vkite, l*it\ AfJE 15. I II i&imc <t Grave- 

complished musician, illustrate books 
for children, and above all to be 
awarded a place in the front rank of 

AGS 3- 
Phvia. bit Turtur.rtl Eltnti. 

and her latest im- 
personations will 
be remembered by 
her appearance in 
"The Passport '* 
and "The Match- ^ l()? ^^] 
maker," of which 

latter play she was the part author Miss Kingston was 
educated as an artist, and studied under CarolusDuran. 

: - 

age aa I II intiow it Groi*. 

ace 18. 
From, a Photo, by J'feIU E. Vfifftltanffy Hrriin 

English actresses, is something to be 
proud of. But this is not all : Miss 
Kingston is a womanly woman "for 

Fmn a Photo. 

{W. * D. Dqwwv. 



Born 1852. 


is an excellent 
and a sterling 
friend, and 
when he is not laughing he 
is invariably smoking the 
fragrant weed. 1 ' Such is 
the popular description of 
the subject of this sketch, 
and it is a reputation worth 
having. Harry Nicholls 
mastered his A B C at the 
City of London Schools ; 
where Toole received his 
education twenty-five years 
before* After a clerkship 
in a railway office and an 
apprenticeship with an 
auctioneer, Nicholls hit 
the right groove in which 
he has earned his life's 
success. The stage has 

members. He assisted the 
late Sir Augustus Harris in 
the preparation of the 
famous Drury Lane panto- 
mimes, and hi^ songs have 
met with great success in 
many pieces. In 1878 
Mr. Harry Nicholls married 
a sister of the well-known 
playwright, Mr. H. Pettitt. 
He is an excellent hand 
at outdoor sports, and a 
member of the Green- 
Room and Clarrick Clubs. 

Frvma WaUr-Coiow /> mwix-j 
bu J*. Cruitfcthank, 

Fivm a I'futto bffl AOE3% [Itert In, Brighton. 

For years he has been the leading comedian 
at the Adelphi Theatre, and no production 
at that noted home of melodrama is complete 
without him. 


:'*■;■ ;.g£ 


Mb **- iH 


»■- m 

$& • 

V J^^r' ■ J^mBnlra 


JtH ■ 

mm ' ' m 

^L j * ^1 

5Sw8F , v\ 


Fnmia Pht&i. hv tMt Oxford Phutofrutphic ImIUkU, 


indeed met with a brilliant addition, and he 
is no* numbered as one of its most noted 

U N I V fltottLTiW}, 0* Xnsnly, A mit^AML 

The Adventures of a Man of Science. 

By L. T. Meade and Clifford Halifax, M.D. 

HE Crocodile was one of the 
finest of the P. and O. 
steamers, and I had secured 
a comfortable deck cabin. I 
was on my way to India, 
partly in search of rest and 
refreshment, partly to renew my acquaint- 
ance with certain tribes in the Central Pro- 
vinces, whom I used to know in my early 
days of adventure. They possessed some 
marvellous remedies for snake bites, wounds, 
and other casualties. These were, I was 
quite persuaded, unknown to the British 
pharmacopoeia, and I hoped to beguile some 
of their most valuable secrets from them. 
We had just passed Gibraltar, and the ill- 
fated Bay of Biscay lay behind us. Favoured 
by a soft, southerly breeze, we were most of 
us on deck, and enjoying ourselves after our 
various fashions, when, as I stood in the 
neighbourhood of the companion-way, the 
following words fell on my ears : — 

44 1 can find you a comfortable corner on 
the hurricane-deck, Lil, where we shall be 
quite alone." 

"I would rather not go," was the quick 
reply. " I expect Mrs. Sully up every 
moment from her cabin. She has a great 
deal to tell me about Bombay. Her house 
at Breach Candy must be magnificent — 
and — why, what is the matter, Dick ? " 

" Nothing that I know of," was the reply, 
sulkily uttered, and a tall man walked quickly 
past me to the other side of the boat. 

I knew who he was, although up to the 
present I had not made his acquaintance. 
His name was Farquharson — he had a good 
appointment in the Civil Service at Bombay, 
and was taking his bride out with him. The 
bride in question was a pretty, bright, some- 
what nervous-looking young girl. She was 
so gay, and her laughter so infectious, that 
she made a complete foil to her husband, 
who was about the most morose-looking man 
I had ever had the pleasure of seeing. His 
conversation, however, was genial enough, 
and I often heard people laugh as they 
listened to him ; but his face, with the eyes 
full of gloom, the tense mouth, firmly and 
immovably set, the long, cadaverous cheeks, 
the surly set of the chin, was enough to 
depress anyone. I could not help at times 

Copyright, 1897, by L. T. Meade, 

Vol. xiii.-24. 

marvelling why his pretty young wife had 
married him. 

When he moved out of sight now, she sat 
down on her accustomed deck chair. I 
moved off, and presently found myself close to 
Farquharson, who was standing near the rail 
of the hurricane-deck smoking a cigar and 
looking moodily out across the waves. When 
he saw me he made an observation with 
regard to the weather in a friendly manner, 
and then, still keeping his back slightly 
towards me, entered into a brisk and animated 
conversation. We discovered, as so many 
people do on board ship, that we had mutual 
friends. He told me a little about his history, 
which seemed to be in every way unremark- 
able, and finally proposed that he should 
introduce me to his wife. We went round 
to the part of the deck where Mrs. 
Farquharson was seated. When she 
observed us approaching, I noticed that 
her quick, bright eyes sought her husband's 
face with an eager look, expressive of 
apprehension and even of fear. This look, 
which passed as quickly as it came, puzzled 
me, but I had no time to dwell upon it 
then. Farquharson went up to her and 
introduced me in a brisk tone. 

" Mr. Gilchrist, Lil. He happens to know 
the Farrants — you will like to hear him talk 
about them, I am sure." 

" I shall be charmed," was the bright reply. 
Mrs. Farquharson stood up as she spoke and 
began to ask eager questions — the Farrants 
were some of her greatest friends, she had 
not met them for years. How were they 
getting on ? — when had I last met them ? As 
she spoke her face became full of vivacity, 
the eyes were as I had seen them half an 
hour ago, bright and shining, she laughed, 
and smiles accompanied each word. 

" What a contrast this pretty girl is to her 
husband," I could not help inwardly 

As we talked together I noticed that 
Farquharson watched her. He was standing 
in such a position that he could only see her 
profile. When her merry laughter floated 
past him I wondered that he did not smile in 
response. I began even to think his an un- 
pleasant face, not gnly on account of its 
melancholy, but because of the queer reserve 

intheU Dfll?^^mTHIGAN 




or tension, which kept each feature more or 
less fixed* But for the ryes, which wore dark, 
bright, and lively enough, it might have been 
characterized as wooden, 

The following evening, just when the dusk 
wns falling, a light hand touched me on my 
sleeve, I turned round and saw, to my 
astonishment, Mrs. Farquharsou standing 
near me. 

" I know you are surprised," she said ; 
"but please will you walk up and down with 
me?— I want to say something— I am — a 
little frightened," 

" What about ? " I asked 

i( Hush ! " she answered. She looked be- 
hind her. (i He did not notice that 1 came 
on deck," she said, in a tone of relief. " Let 
us walk just here, Talk to me about anything 
or nothing, only keep talking." 

" But you have not told me what has 
frightened you," 

She glanced again behind her and then 
bent towards me. 

(t I am afraid of Dick,' 1 she said. "I— I 
think he must he a little mad." 

" Oh, nonsense," I answered; "he is as 
sane as you or L" 

" You would not say so if you knew every- 
thing/ 1 

" But what has he done ? " I asked 

** He has done nothing, only looked Hkt a 
dtvfl™ Here her voice shook. u He has 
looked like the Arch Fiend himself. Oh, 
the sight was horrible ! I cannot live through 
it if he does it again." 

* Her agitation was all too real, and, believ- 
ing it to be a case of nerves, 1 tried to turn 

Digitized by Kl*} 

the conversation to 
indifferent matters, 
"DonV she said, 

in a piteous voice ; 
"I must speak of it 
to someone, and you 
are the only friend I 
have on board, I 
believe my secret is 
safe with you ? " 

"If you really wish 
me to help you, you 
must be more ex- 
plicit," I said. " Re^ 
member, you have 
not yet told me what 
has frightened you." 
She laid her soft 
hand on my arm, and 
then withdrew it. 

"I am frightened," 
she said, " because 
Dick looked like a devil— it was his smile — 
oh, Heaven ! " She shuddered from head to 

" Now that I come to think of it, I have- 
never seen your husband smile/ 1 I said. "I 
have been struck from time to time with the 
extreme taciturnity of his face/ 1 

"I am not surprised. You cannot have 
failed to notice his melancholy. Well, he is 
not really sad. I used to think so at first, but 
after we were engaged, and when we were 
first married, I knew by the things he said 
that he had a contented, even cheerful, mind. 
I like his gravity — it is his smile which upsets 
me —I cannot love him if he smiles at me ; 
and as to his laugh, once I heard it Mr. 
(iilchrist, if I hear it again I shall go mad." 

"But you cannot expect your husband 
never to >mile. nor to laugh,' 7 I said '"It is 
your duty to be severe with yourself, and not 
to allow such trivial matters to influence you." 
14 You would not say so if you knew," she 
replied. She paused, as if considering, 

"Will you take a message from me to my 
husband?" she asked She told me what to say. 
" You place a very hard task upon me, 
Mrs* Fartjuharson. No man would like to 
hear the things you beg me to tell your 
husband ; to hear them from your lips would 

be hard, but from those of a stranger " 

" Never mind/ 1 she said, eagerly ; "the case 
i s u n i q ue, t er r i ble. So meo n e m u st he 1 p me — 
you will do it, will you not ? I would not 
ask you to take my part if I had another 
friend on board.'* 

She looked so beseeching, so young, so 
terrified, tl©fi jjf^i^^ help yielding. 




"Very well, I will do what I can for you," 
I said. 

** Thank you, from my heart, 1 ' she answered. 
She held out her hand. 

I took it in mine, The next moment 
she disappeared in the direction of the 

The electric light 
was now switched 
on, and the deck 
looked bright and 
animated* Awnings 
had been drawn 
overhead to keep out 
some of the night 
air, and couples 
began to appear from 
every quarter, talk- 
ing, laughing, stroll- 
ing up and down. A 
string band made ex- 
cellent music, and I 
heard a girl propose 

I stood leaning 
against the rail in 
exactly the position 
in which Mrs. Far- 
quharson had left 
me, I by no means 
liked the task she 
had forced upon me, 
but my impression 
was that she herself 
was ill, and that it 
ness to warn her 
to her condition. 


might be only a kind- 
husband with regard 
Presently I saw his 
melancholy, taciturn face towering above the 
smaller men as he came on deck, I watched 
him look round, and 1 doubted not that he 
was expecting his wife to join him each 
moment. By-and-by Farquharson strolled 
over in the direction where I was standing, 

11 Halloa ! " he said, u I did not know you 
had come up." 

" 1 have been here for some time," I 
replied. t£ ft is a beautiful night," 

"But stifling under this awning, 15 he said. 
As bespoke I saw him glance in the direction 
of the companion-way. 

u You are looking for Mrs. Farquharson?" 
I said. i; She has just been here, but has 
gone below* 11 

" Have you spoken to her ? " he inquired. 

M Yes. She asked me to give you a 

He did not inquire what it was, but looked 
me steadily in the face. - 

" She is not quite well," I continued. 

Digitized by Gt 

" You will, I hope, forgive my interfering. 
I am not a medical man, but I know a good 
bit about medical matters, and I cannot help 
telling you that you ought to be very careful 
with regard to your wife," 

Just for a moment he looked as if he 

meant to resent my 
intrusive remarks, 
but then his brow 

4( You spoke of 
Mrs. Farquharson 
having left a message 
for me. What is 
it ? " he asked* 

"It is important. 
Can we get away by 
ourselves ? " 

" Of course we can. 
The lower deck will 
fy be empty," 
' We moved off at 

/ . once, and soon 
found ourselves in 
comparative soli- 
tude. The music 
played in the dis- 
tance, the lapping 
sound of the waves 
came to our ears ; 
we had got outside 
the awning, <and the 
stars shone brightly 
overhead. It was a 
lovely evening, tropical in its heat, 

Farquharson drew a long breath and took 
off his hat 

il It is a comfort to get away from all that 
gossip and banality," he said ; " but you spoke 
of a message from my wife. Will you kindly 
tell me what she has said ? " 

14 1 will do so, but first please let me repeat 
that I consider Mrs. Farquharson extremely 
nervous. She came to me a short time ago 
and confessed that she was frightened." 

" Good heavens ! Frightened ! " cried 
Farquharson. He drew himself up stiffly 
and stood like a soldier at attention. 

"And about a most extraordinary matter, 1 ' 
I continued. " It seems that you have 
alarmed her. She said that she could not 
stand your smile. Of course, it is merely a 
case of nerves— but what is the matter ? You 
don't look well." 

11 My smile ? " said Farquharson, " Believe 
me, I never knew that I smiled ; I hoped that 
I had not inflicted it on. her. This is terrible. 
Poor girl — no wonder she is upset.' 1 

" It is a case of nerves," I said, misundcr- 


1 83 


standing him. "Mrs, Farquharson needs a 
tonic and a little care and watching." 

u She does not," he answered, 

" I am sure of it," I said- ** Such a state as 
hers is not altogether uncommon." 

IK interrupted inu with a harsh sou ml. 

" Believe me, there is nothing whatever 
the matter with her," he said ; " she only failed 
to endure what no woman in her senses 
could stand I see, Gilchrist, that I must 
give you my confidence, and helieve me, it is 
a horrible one. I had no right to marry that 
young girl. I was tempted, for I loved her, 
t!od knows how deeply. Still, 1 behaved like 
a selfish brute, and this is my just punish- 
merit " 

To my amazement, the man was so over- 
come that great drops stood out on his fore- 
head, All the time there was not a trace of 
expression in the face, tht lips 
looked straight and fixed, 
each feature was as if carved 
in wood, yet one glance at the 
eyes told me that he was 
suffering torture, 

" You have never come 
across a case like mine," he 
began. " I consider my self 
the most afflicted man in the 
world. Now, come here, just 
under this light— but first tell 
me, can you stand a shock ? " 

" What do you mean ? ?? 

* c Are your nerves good? 
Can you stand something 
horrible? 1 ' 

"I believe so," I anssvered; 
" I have had some tough 

He kept gazing at me as if 
he meant to read me through 
and through. 

** My wife has explained to 
you that she dreads my smile," 
he said, at last ; ll the best 
way .to show you why she dreads 
illustrating it." 

I did not speak. He continued, 
another pause : — 

'* Some people wonder at my grave, immov- 
able face, As far as I am concerned, they may 
wonder in vain- For you I lift the curtain." 

Suddenly his whole face underwent a com- 
plete revolution — the mouth was stretched 
wide, and literally seemed to open from ear 
to ear, showing his glittering, white teeth. The 
short hair on the forehead was brought down 
until it reached the eyebrows, and at the same 
time, by some extraordinary spasm of muscle, 

the lower eyelids were everted, and the eye- 
balls rolled up until there was nothing visible 
but the whites. In this horrible contortion, 
which partook of the idiot and the monkey 
in its extreme horror, the real Farquharson 
completely vanished* Uttering a groan as 
his features recovered their normal attitude, 
the man turned aside and covered his face. 

It was enough. I had seen something 
which caused my heart, accustomed as it was 
to shocks and adventures, to leap within my 
breast. A cold horror covered me. I had 
truly seen what might have been the face of 
a fiend. 

"Man," I said, catching him by the arm, 
" what in the world do you mean ? " 

" I have illustrated my smile," he said. 
*'That is the only way in which I can smile. 
Horrible^ is it not?" 


it is by 

nary spasm or muse 



I( It is," I answered. " Fearfully so." 
" As we are about it, Gilchrist, I will give 
you a further shock. Now, listen to my laugh 
— steady yourself, for the sound will not be 

He gave a sort of chuckle, low and deep 
at first, and resembling, to a certain extent, 
the baying of a bloodhound ; but, as the laugh 
proceeded, it rose in strength and sound, 
until it at last resembled certain strings 
of the bass fiddle played in absolute discord 
It came and went, rising in volume, until the 
agonized sense of every nerve jarred caused 
the listener to clap his hands to his ears. 




I have heard madmen laugh before now, 
and have listened to the jackal in the jungle, 
but I never, from man or beast, was greeted 
by such a sound of horror as proceeded from 
Farquharson's lips. 

"Now you know my secret," he said, 
resuming his usual automatic manner and 
immovable cast of face. " Let us walk up 
and down." 

" But why do you do it ? " I said. 

" Because I cannot help myself. As a 
child, I am told that I was all right, but when 
very young I had a bad fall off a pony and 
had concussion of the brain. From that 
moment the horrible thing came upon me 
slowly but surely. I was taken to many 
doctors, bur no one could help me, the 
general supposition being that I received 
some grave injury to the cerebral centres 
when I fell from my pony ; at least, that was 
the understood pathology of my condition. 
One or two doctors said that it was caused by 
shock, and one man was sufficiently hopeful 
to hint that another and greater shock might 
possibly restore me — but that kind of thing 
cannot be done to order, and my case is 
without doubt incurable. Now, Gilchrist, the 
tragedy of the thing is this — that smile and 
laugh have nothing whatever to do with me: 
within I am like all other men. I am not the 
monster my smile would show and my laugh 
prove. I can love deeply, and I can be 
stirred to noble thoughts. No woman was 
ever better loved than my wife is loved by 
me. While I live I shall love her, and even 
if" — his voice faltered and broke — u What- 
ever happens, my love will remain unalterable," 
he continued. " For years I have trained my- 
self never to smile, never to laugh — even the 
ordinary powers of expression are impossible 
to me, for the slightest movement of my 
face causes an intolerable grimace. Before 
we were married Lil often remarked 
on the immobility of my face, but I put her 
off the subject with tender words, and she 
learned to love me in spite of my ugly 
exterior. I often felt that I ought to tell her 
the truth, but the fear, the terror, that I should 
lose her kept me silent, I believed that she 
might safely marry me, for I resolved to be 
always on my guard. You can little imagine 
the torture of such a state. It is my lot to 
see humour with startling quickness, and my 
whole life is spent in a state of terror, fearing 
that I may indulge in the smile or laugh 
which would drive those mad who observed 
them. I am never quite at my ease except 
when the light is dim ; and, although I may 
allow myself to change my expression then, and 

Digitized by G< 

even smile fearlessly, I have still to guard 
against laughter. I perceive that in an un- 
expected moment I betrayed myself to Lil. 
She is horrified, and little wonder. The 
stoutest nerves could not stand the infliction of 
such sounds and such looks as I can give." 

" You are right," I replied. 

" You have never seen anything worse ? " 

He looked at me with his immovable eyes, 
but I caught the pathos in his tone. 

" It is a remarkable case," I said. " I 
earnestly wish it could be cured." 

"That can never be— I must endure my 
burden, from which death alone can free me 
— but the immediate question now is, what 
is to become of my wife ? " 

" Tell her what you have just told me," 
I answered. " She loves you well and will 
learn to endure it." 

"She cannot — you have said so yourself." 

" You must be careful to inflict the pain 
upon her as seldom as possible." 

" I have learned to be careful, but she 
knows now that the horror exists, and will 
watch for it. I shall become nervous ; with 
her eyes watching me, I shall act the devil in 
spite of myself." 

I did not know what reply to make. The 
case was all too tragic. Here was a man 
who must carry what was practically almost 
a dead face about with him : a man with keen 
wit, warm affections, even that last torture to 
one circumstanced as he was, a vivid sense of 
humour. He had married a young wife 
whose nerves were highly strung, and who 
had already discovered his secret. 

We continued to walk up and down. 
P'arquharson was now perfectly silent. The 
music came to us in waves of cheerful sound 
across the great ship. He suddenly stamped 
his foot. 

" What an irony that music is beside a 
tragedy like mine," he exclaimed. 

" Listen to me," I said, suddenly. "I grant 
that it is a tragedy, but I am certain there 
must be a way out of it. In the first place, I 
do not despair of your not being finally cured ; 
but even granted that never takes place, you 
need not lose your wife's affections. The 
thing for you now to do is to tell Mrs. 
Farquharson the truth." 

" How can I tell her ? Remember, I 
cannot plead with eyes, voice, and expression 
like other people." 

"She loves you," I said. "She loves you 
for what you are, not for what you look. She 
is, if I mistake not, possessed of nerve if she 
will only dare to use it — she can get 
accustomed to your condition." 




" Never, never." 

" I believe she can, Anyhow, let us try 
her — I will tell her, if you like. Will you 
allow me ? " 

"God bless you/' said the poor fellow ■ 
(l it would be an untold relief." 

I went downstairs at once and entered one 
of the saloons* It was empty, I sent a 
servant to ask Mrs. Farquharson to come 
to me. 

She came almost immediately ; her eyes 
were red as if she had been crying, her face 
was pale. 

11 1 have something to tell you/ 3 I said ; 
" won't you sit down ? " 

14 1 cannot/' she replied ; ** have you spoken 
to Dick?" 


11 Yes, and he has told me everything," 

" Then he is mad ? " She leant against 
a chair, trembling, 

" He is as sane as you are ; but all the same, 
it is a terrible story — it lies in your power 
alone to make it endurable to him*" 

I then related as briefly as I could the 
tragedy which I had just heard from 
Farquharson's lips. Mrs, Farquharson 
listened in absolute silence. When I had 
concluded she held out her hand to me. 

"Thank you/' she said, briefly. " I have 
nothing more to say, I believe I can do 

Digitized by GoOglc 

what — what he requires* I am going to him," 
She left the saloon and went on deck. 

I did not see either of the Farquharsons 
again that night. 

The rest of the voyage took place without 
anything special occurring, and when a couple 
of weeks later we reached Bombay, Farquhar- 
son and his wife came to bid me good-bye. 
I noticed that her face was pale, but her eyes 
had a brisk, resolved sort of look about them. 
She spoke cheerfully. 

" You must come and see us, Mr. 
Gilchrist/' she said. " Dick has a pretty house 
at Breach Candy — I shall be very proud if 
you will be one of our first guests." 

I said I would call upon them, and it was 

arranged that I should 
dine at their house on 
the following day. 

Farquharson held out 
his hand, which I wmng. 
The young wife smiled at 
me as I turned away. 
The husband with his 
immovable face stood 
close to her ; even in his 
dark, deep-set, honest 
eyes I could not trace the 
faintest touch of expres- 

At the appointed hour 
I went to visit the Far- 
quharsons in their pretty 
house, Mrs. Farquharson 
ran out to meet me — she 
looked young, childish, 
and beautiful She said 
that her husband had 
not yet returned home, 
but she expected him 
back in a few moments, 

"I hope you will like 
the house/' she continued. 
" We are going to make a 
tennis-court here. Don't 
you think it a nice 
house and wonderfully European?" 

She spoke rapidly, but I did not fail to 
notice the strained expression in her eyes. 
Farquharson presently appeared, and we went 
to dinner, During the meal, I observed 
that the husband and wife furtively watched 
each other, that Mrs. Farquharson's face was 
white, and that she played with her food. Soon 
after dinner^ she left us, and Farquharson 
uttered a sigh of relief. 

II Sit where you cannot watch my face, 
Gilchrist/' he said— u it is perfectly stiff just 
now with the effort to suppress emotion." 

Original from 




" Pray, don't think of me, my dear fellow," 
I replied. " Remember, I have seen you at 
your worst ; I believe I can stand you now 
whatever you are likely to do." 

" You have not been tried," he replied. 
He moved his chair as he spoke and sat 
facing out into the garden. 

I bade the Farquharsons adieu at an early 
hour, thinking it likely that I might never 
meet them again. I went back to my hotel 
and finished making arrangements for my 
journey to the Central Provinces. 

The next day I was busy, but immediately 
after dinner a servant came to inform me that 
an English lady was waiting to speak to me in 
one of the saloons. I went into the room, 
and Mrs. Farquharson stood before me. She 
greeted me with a slight cry and gesture of 

" You must help me," she said, in an eager 
voice ; " I have borne it up to the very last 
point — I cannot endure it any longer." Her 
voice was low and almost breathless in its 

" What has happened since last night ? " 

I spoke in as cool and calm a voice as I 
could command. There was nothing for it 
but to make light of poor Farquharson's 
affliction to his wife. 

"I was brave last night," she said; "to-night 
I am a coward. Mr. Gilchrist, my nerves 
won't endure it any longer. I have come to 
beg of you to do something for me." 

44 And that?" I asked. 

" You are going to Jubbulpore to-morrow : 
will you take him with you ? Without him 
my nerves may get stronger — after a time I 
may get accustomed to this horror and be 
able to endure it. Just after you left last 
night I went into the room, and I saw him 
smile. He was standing by the veranda, and 
he was smiling to himself — oh, it was 
fiendish — I slipped away, I do not think he 
saw me, but as I went down one of the 
passages I heard him laugh : his laughter 
echoed in the empty passage ; it haunted me, 
I heard it all night. If this goes on much 
longer, I shall hate him ! " 

She said the words with remarkable 
emphasis : her eyes were gleaming queerly, 
she was certainly by no means herself. 

" When first you told me the whole dread- 
ful history I thought I could bear it," she 
went on ; " now I see it is beyond the strength 
of an ordinary woman. I am an ordinary 
woman. I love him well, but when he smiles 
at me I feel that I am looking at a devil. I 
wish I could go back to England. Whatever 
happens, we must live apart for the present. 

Digitized by tiOOglC 

Can you suggest anything? Even a fort- 
night's peace would be a boon." 

u I will ask your husband to come with me 
to-morrow morning." 

" But can you really bear his companion- 

" Of course —in fact, I shall not mind it in 
the least." 

This was not true, but I lied to the poor 
soul on purpose. 

" I will go back with you now and see 
Farquharson," I said. " I will suggest to him 
that he comes straight away with me to- 
morrow. I expect to have some good sport ; 
I doubt not he will enjoy the expedition." 

" God bless you," she replied ; " but please 
remember that he does not know that I came 
here. Can you manage to conceal the fact ? " 

" That being the case, you had better go 
back alone," I said, "and I will drop in 
incidentally in the course of the evening." 

She left me, and about an hour afterwards 
I followed her. I found Farquharson on the 
veranda. Mrs. Farquharson was not in sight. 
He greeted me in his usual automatic style, 
but I knew by the pressure of his hand that 
he was glad to see me. 

"It is good of you to call," he said. " I 
thought you would have no time on such a 
busy evening." 

" I have come on purpose," I said. " I 
want you to come with me to Jubbulpore. 
I hate going on this sort of expedition by 
myself. Can you not manage to give me 
the pleasure of your company ? " 

"My company?" he said, with bitterness. 
" Are you sure of what you are saying ? Why 
are you doing this thing, Gilchrist ? " 

" For various reasons ; partly because I 
am a sociable person, and am convinced that 
you are a good shot ; partly because I think 
the change will do you good (you will forgive 
me for saying that you look a bit hipped) ; 
and partly also because I am certain a short 
absence from your society will be of benefit 
to your wife." 

"Has she been complaining?" he cried, 

" Ask no questions," I answered. "Will you 
come or will you not ? " 

"I should like it of all things, and Lil 
could go to the Sully s. I could not leave 
her alone here. When do you start ? " 

" By the first train to-morrow morning. I 
have plenty of ammunition and rifles for us 

" I have never been to Jubbulpore," he 
replied ; " yes, I should like it. I will go and 
speak to Lil ",j na | f r0 rn 




" WHY AKB YOU J30J!WG this thing, GILCHRIST '?■' 

"One moment first/' I interrupted, "If 
you come with me, please understand that 
you can be, and I hope you will be, perfectly 
natural When you wish to make grimaces, 
pray do so — when you wish to smile, smile 
freely, and also laugh when you are inclined, 
I want you to be natural— those are my 
conditions — will you grant them?' 1 

Ho wrung my hand, his eyes spoke, though 
the rest of his face was immovable, He left 
the room* 

In about five minutes he came back to tell 
me that the matter could be arranged, and 
that he and his wife would go at once to the 
Sullys, to ask if she might remain with them 
during his absence — in short, that I might 
expect him to join me at an early hour on 
the following morning. 

There was no hitch in the way of this 
arrangement, and early next day Farquharson 
and I started for Jubbulpore. During our 
rapid journey I found my companion over- 
come by a melancholy so intense and profound 
that no effort could shake it off. He seldom 
spoke, and there was no chance of his 
inflicting his terrible smile upon me. I watched 
him with ill-concealed anxiety, and often 
sought an opportunity to beguile him into 
talking of his troubles — all in vain, he was in 
no mood to be communicative. 

We spent a night at Jubbulpore and then 
went on to a small town in the vicinity, of the 
name of Morar, In the neighbourhood of 
Morar we should get the big shooting we 
were in search of, We had sent a telegram 
to Mrs* Farquharson during our journey, 
telling her that Morar would be our destina- 
tion, and the following day a whole budget of 
letters arrived* There were some for me and 



several for Farquharson. I saw 
his face change eolour as he took 
one up and eagerly broke open 
the envelope, 1 guessed that it 
must be from his wife, and, going 
on to the veranda of the little 
hotel where we were staying, 
occupied myself reading my own 
correspondence* A sudden groan 
and stifled exclamation within 
the room caused me to quickly 
turn my head, I saw Farquharson 
seated by the breakfast-table, his 
face bowed in his hands. 

'* What is it, old chap ? What 
is wrong?" I said, coming back 
to him and laying my hand on 
his shoulder. He did not shake 
me off, but neither did he make 
any reply. One or two more 
deep groans escaped him, then he started to 
his feet 

l * Look here, Gilchrist," he said, " I cannot 
talk of it. You had best know what is up by 
reading my wife's letter. God knows it is con- 
clusive enough." He hurriedly left the room. 
Mrs, Farquharson's letter was lying face 
downwards on the table. I took it up, and 
the following words greeted my eyes :■ — 

Dearest Dick, — It is not that I don't love 
you, but I am not strong enough to endure 
what you so constantly are obliged to inflict 
upon me. Neither, dear, can you bear it — 
you cannot stand the strain which must never 
be relaxed, and I cannot endure the constant 
suspense and the life of watching, I watch 
and watch to see the dtvil tome out in your 
foxe y Dick, and Dick, dear, it is driving me 
mad. Please do agree that we shall live 
apart Perhaps when I am older and 
stronger I may be able to bear what is now too 
much for me. Forgive me, Dick, and let me 
go. I shall return home by the next steamer 
— Your loving and most unhappy wife," 

" Poor fellow ! He had no right to marry 
her without telling her," I could not help 
commenting. I folded up the letter and then 
went in search of him. 

He was standing under the portico, his 
hands thrust into his pockets, his eyes staring 
fixedly before him — his wooden face had 
never looked more absolutely wooden. 
When I approached he looked at me. 

" Don't ask me to talk of it, Gilchrist," he 
said \ tfc it is the sort of thing for which one 
has no words. I believe from my soul that 
Lil is right — she is best quit of me/' 

"You will telegraph to her — you will do 
something to stop this?" I exclaimed 




He shook his head. 

'* You must be mad,' 1 I cried; "you 
cannot consent to a separation without 
making some effort/' 

" I will atone, but not in that way. For- 
give me, Gilchrist, 1 am in no mood for 
discussion ; give me back the letter. Poor 
Lil ! poor little girl ! " His voice shook — the 
next moment he gave one of his terrible, 
nerve-jarring laughs. 

'' Merciful Heaven!" I could not help 
muttering to myself, " no wonder that young 
woman flees from him. He is the best of 
fellows, and yet to all intents and purposes 
he is little short of a monster." 

His laughter kept on echoing and echoing. 
** Ha ! ha 1 " 1 heard him saying. When he 
could recover himself, he turned to me, and 
spoke abruptly : — 

Ai Have you arranged about the shooting ? TJ 

English sportsmen get rid of these terrors of 
the jungle. Hence the delight of the people 
at our arrival This tiger had already killed 
twenty-seven inhabitants of the village. The 
natives were in a state of absolute panic, and 
were willing to put themselves altogether into 
our hands. They had many curious ideas 
with regard to the tiger, believing it to be 
possessed of unnatural power, and regarding it 
with superstitious awe. They were most 
anxious that it should die, but were unwilling 
to kill it themselves* 

The chief of the party took us immediately 
to his hut, and very soon after our arrival one 
of the women of the tribe came to interview us. 
She had once been with a white lady as ayah, 
and could speak a little broken English, 
She told us that her husband and three 
children had been victims of the tiger 
— the poor creature was nearly mad with 


"Yes," I replied " There is a small 
village called R ha n pore, about twelve miles 
from here, where good tiger-shooting is 
generally to be had. Shall we go there ? n 

lt Yes, and immediately," replied my com- 
panion. He went into the house, calling back 
to me to get ready as quickly as I could. 

Half an hour afterwards we were off. 
Rhanpore was a small hamlet, in the very 
thick of the swamp or grass jungle, The 
chief of the little village came out to 
welcome us with enthusiasm, the reason for 
which was soon made plain There was a 
man-eating tiger in the vicinity. The Hindus 
know well the pluck and avidity with which 

Vol *iii. -25, 

trouble, and gave us to understand that if we 
could get rid of the brute, she would regard 
us ever after as gods. Knowing that none of 
the tribe would dare to kill the monster, she 
looked upon our arrival as an interposition 
of God. 

"We will have a try for the brute, and 
at once," said Farquharson, his eyes 
gleaming queerly in his head, A glance 
showed me that he was in the mood to do 
desperate deeds, and on this occasion I did 
not feel inclined to balk him* 

"We will go into the jungle at once, 11 I 
said ; (< how many men can go with us ? ,r 

But here an unexpected difficulty arose. 




None of the inhabitants of Rhanpore were 
willing to run the risk. 

" You do not expect us to undertake the 
destruction of so dangerous a brute alone ? " 
I asked the chief. " Will no one accom- 
pany us ? " 

Several men who stood round shook their 

" All right, we will go for the beast by our- 
selves," said Farquharson. 

Just then a tall, good-looking young Hindu 
touched me on the arm. 

" I will show you the tread," he said. 
" Let us start at once ; the tiger never comes 
out until evening, so there is no danger of 
meeting him now. You can go and have a 
shot at him presently, if you like." 

In less than half an hour, well pro- 
vided with ammunition and our rifles, we 
set forth. 

" This promises to be something like 
sport," said Farquharson to me. 

I made no reply*— we were crushing down 
the long jungle grass as we walked. Suddenly 
he spoke again. 

" I have been thinking over that letter of 

"God knows you have," was my internal 
reply. I said nothing in words. 

" And the more I consider it, the less I 
like it," continued the poor fellow. " I see 
plainly that she cannot put up with me ; and, 
mind you, I am not a scrap surprised, nor do 
I blame her in the very least. I did wrong 
to marry her, and my just punishment has 
come upon me. But a girl who is separated 
from her husband, from whatever cause, how- 
ever innocent, has a hard time in this 
censorious world. Now, if death " 

" Oh, come, none of that," I said, interrupt- 
ing him almost roughly ; '• we have no time 
just now to think even of your most absorbing 
affairs — we carry our lives in our hands ; a 
man-eating tiger is no pleasant monster to 
meet, and if I am not mistaken, this is a 
tiger's tread." 

I looked upon the grass, which was torn 
and broken asunder. At the same moment 
the Hindu fell on his knees. He began to 
examine the grass and to sniff. Then he 
faced round and spoke. 

" Here is the tiger tread," he said ; " he 
comes nightly right through here, and 
goes -to the pool there to the right to 

As the man spoke, he bent slightly forward 
and appeared to be listening. 

II Do you hear anything ? " I asked of 

Digitized by LjOOgle 

"Only the snapping of a twig," was the 
reply; "the tiger will not come out until 
to-night; we are safe, but this is his tread." 

Again he bent and listened. Suddenly I 
noticed a queer change coming over his face — 
he glanced from Farquharson to me, and the 
next moment, before I had time to address a 
word to him, disappeared. I was just bend- 
ing down to see where he had gone when a 
sudden and violent shock threw me to the 
ground, and my rifle was dashed from my 
hand : a huge tiger had leapt over me and 
was following the Hindu. 

" Upatree, for goodness sake, Farquharson," 
I gasped ; " the brute will be on us in a 
moment." I rushed for my rifle, but before 
I could secure it, the tiger had turned 
and was making for me. A tree was 
near : I made for it and managed to climb 
up just in time. My sudden disappearance 
evidently puzzled my foe. He stopped, 
looking from right to left. I glanced round, 
and saw to my relief that Farquharson 
had also taken refuge in a tree. With 
the minuteness with which one does notice 
small particulars even in moments of 
extreme peril, I observed that the tree my 
friend had climbed into was almost too slight 
to bear his weight — he had established himself 
in a narrow fork, and was clinging on with 
one hand, holding his rifle with the other. 
I, unarmed, had taken shelter in a taller tree. 
My rifle lay quite ten yards away. As tigers 
are seldom climbers, I hoped that for the 
present we were both safe. I bent cautiously 
forward, therefore, to get a good view of 
the beast, who was standing still, glancing 
round him. 

He was a full-grown tiger, of great 
beauty — a glint of sunshine had struggled 
through the thick, overhanging trees, and lit 
up his tawny coat. It is the nature of the 
tiger never, except on very rare occasions, to 
look up. He did not look up now, but he 
evidently suspected something, and also 
doubtless smelt us, for he made a sudden 
halt under the tree in which Farquharson was 
hiding. He now began to sniff the air, turning 
his head slowly first to right and then to left. I 
dared not utter a word, but I noticed, to my 
horror, that, owing to the smallness of the tree, 
Farquharson's legs were only from four to five 
feet off the ground. If the brute did happen 
to see him he would be in extreme danger of 
being torn from his hiding-place. For a 
moment I wondered that he did not fire, but 
then it occurred to me that he was acting wisely 
in not doing so. If he missed his prey, the 
tiger would mm, a*id in mad fury try to claw 




him from the tree. The best chance for 
both of us was to remain motionless, trusting 
that the animal would presently stalk on in 
search of the water which he was coming to 

At that moment a covey of partridges, 
evidently disturbed by my possession of the 
tree, rose with shrill cries above my hecul 
and flew away. The tiger, attracted by the 
noise, raised his tawny eyes and followed 
them in their flight. He left his position 
under the tree, walking forward a few 
paces. At the same instant I saw Farquhar- 
son raise his rifle and fire. He shot the 
brute in the side, rolling him over. My 
first impression was that he had killed his 
game. Now was my chance to descend 
quickly and fetch my rifle. I was just 
about to do so when the beast, whom I had 
supposed to be dead, quivered violently and 
staggered to his feet. He uttered a loud 
growl, and, turning his bloodshot 
eyes, saw Farquharson in the tree. 
With a supernatural effort the wounded 
animal made straight for my friend- 
he sprang at Farquharson, and drove 
one of his great claws deep into the 
poor fellow's leg just above the knee, 
The flesh was immediately ripped 
down to the ankle, and then the brute 
stood growling, showing his teeth, and 
preparing for a further spring, 

11 Hold on, for Heaven's sake. I 
will get to him," I cried. 

" No, I have him ; it is all right," 
was answered back. The mouth of the 
beast was open — I saw Farquharson 
deliberately place the rifle between his 
teeth and fire. This ought to have 
finished the brute, but the bullet must 
have come out in the cheek, for the tiger 
only uttered growls of agony and rage, 
and making another spring, managed to 
wound Farquharson once again, clutch- 
ing his leg higher up and tearing the 
flesh in a most horrible manner, 

I leapt to the ground and had all 
but secured my rifle, when the tiger 
saw me. He wheeled round, made a 
sudden spring, and pinned me to the 
earth. Another instant, and all would 
have been over if I had not remem- 
bered my knife. I wrenched it from 
my belt and drove it deep under the 
brute's left ear> and with all my power 
severed his throat right across, cutting 
through the jugular vein ; he stretched 
himself out, fell forward) and died. 
It did not take me an instant to 

oy Google 

regain my 



I was shaken, but un- 
that Farquharson was 

fainting from loss of blood. 

'* Cheer up, old chap, we have done for 
him,'* I cried. "Here, have a nip of this 
brandy." I managed to pour a little into his 
mouth, and then helped him down from the 
tree, but he had scarcely set foot upon the 
ground before there was renewed hemorrhage, 
and he sank back fainting. 

Just then I felt myself touched from 
behind, and looking back saw the dusky face 
of the Hindu woman close to me. She held 
something in her hand, and pushing me away, 
knelt down by Farquharson and put some 
drops of liquid tfetween his lips, 

" Give me that handkerchief which is round 
your head," I said ; " I must bind it round 
his leg and make a tourniquet to stop the 

She handed me her large, gaily-coloured 









handkerchief without a word. I did what 
was necessary for Farquharson, the woman 
watching me silently. The light was now 
failing fast, but I saw through the brightly- 
coloured grasses of the jungle several more 
dusky faces peeping curiously at us. Amaze- 
ment, horror, delight, were reflected on every 
countenance — the dead tiger lying in our 
midst was enough. Without uttering a word 
the natives came forward and helped me to 
carry Farquharson back to the village. 

It is needless to say that we were the 
heroes of the hour, but I had little thought 
for anything but the terrible condition of my 
poor friend. I dreaded blood-poisoning, the 
result almost invariably of all bad tiger 
wounds, and in the morning saw from the 
high delirium and rapidly rising temperature 
that it had actually set in. I had none of 
the necessary remedies with me, and did not 
think it likely that Farquharson would survive. 
The native woman, Rhanee Mee, had insti- 
tuted herself his nurse. 

" His life will be spared," she said, many 
times. " We have certain cures for tiger 
wounds in the jungle — we can soon check 
the fever." 

I have a great belief in these remedies, 
handed down as they are from parent to son, 
and containing the germs, many of them, 
of our own most valuable medicines; but 
I perceived, to my consternation, that they 
had little or no effect upon Farquharson. 
Whether his state of nervous depression 
before the accident had an unfavourable effect 
upon him now I cannot say, but notwith- 
standing the skill of the Hindu, nothing could 
check the inflammation and fever. 

Two or three days passed away, and my 
friend's condition was almost hopeless. 

I was pacing about just outside the chiefs 
hut, and wondering whether Mrs. Farquharson 
had already sailed for England, and what her 
feelings would be when the appalling news of 
her husband's terrible death reached her, 
when a clear English voice sounded on my 
ears, and, turning with a startled movement, 
I saw Farquharson's wife standing behind 

*' By all that is wonderful, how have you 
come here ? " I cried. She held up her hand 
to interrupt me. 

" Never mind that part now," she said ; 
" I have come. They told me at Morar of 
the accident — is he alive ? " 

In her travelling dress, her face deadly 
pale, her eyes red as if she had been weep- 
ing ; distrait, worn, and weary, I should 
scarcely have recognised her for the bright, 

Digitized by LiOOgJC 

young-looking girl whom I had first seen on 
board the Crocodile, She came close to 

" Is he dead ? " she asked again. She did 
not wait for me to reply — but continued, 
speaking in a wild and yet automatic 
voice : " Listen. Since I wrote that letter I 
have been nearly mad. My misery* and 
remorse grew beyond words. I suddenly 
made up my mind to follow you both to 
Jubbulpore. From Jubbulpore I came on 
to Morar — there the awful news of the 
accident and his dangerous illness met me. 
Now tell me, is he alive ? I can bear it, but I 
must know the truth — is he living?" 

" Just," I answered. " You must be pre- 
pared, Mrs. Farquharson, to see him greatly 

11 I do not mind that if only his life may 
be spared. Now take me to him." 

She held out her hand. 

We went to the hut, in the door of which 
Rhanee Mee, the black woman, was standing. 

" Rhanee," I said, " this is the memsahib, 
the good sahib's wife. She has come all the 
way from Bombay to see him." 

Rhanee Mee fixed her lustrous eyes on the 
white girl — the two exchanged long glances. 

"Can you understand English?" asked 

The black woman nodded. 

"And you have nursed him?" 

She nodded again. 

" Then I will tell you everything. I have 
been a bad wife to the sahib — I have tortured 
him for that which he could not help. Save 
him for me — bring him back from the gate of 
the grave — do what you can. I must show 
him how sorry I am." 

Rhanee Mee's face grew graver and graver. 

"The sahib is bad to-night," she said, in a 
solemn voice ; "his fever does not yield to the 
remedies of our tribe — it may be that he will 
not recover." Then she glanced again at Lil, 
who stamped her foot in agony. 

" He must recover, Rhanee Mee," she cried. 
" I have often heard of the skill of your 
people. Use your great skill now, and give 
him back to me." 

" I have done nearly everything," said the 
black woman. " I have tried nearly all our 

" Nearly, but not quite? " said Lil. 

" There is one thing left." 

" Then use it ; don't delay." 

" There is one thing left," repeated Rhanee 
Mee, " but I was keeping it for myself against 
the day of my own extremity." She looked 
again at Mrs, Farquharson, gave her a queer 




and incomprehensible smile, and turning went 
back into the hut. 

In a moment she came out again, holding 
in her hand a curiously-carved box. 

"Open it," she said, pushing it into the 
hands of the wife. 

Mrs. Farquharson did so. Inside there 
lay what appeared to be a solitary pearl of 
large size and beauty, 

" That pearl is hollow," said Rhanee Mee. 
" Within there lies a medicine more potent 
than anything I 
have yet used for 
the sahib. Take it, 
memsahib — I give 
it to you because 
you love him. 
Take it and try it. 
If anything can 
bring him back 
from the grave, 
that will" 

Mrs. Farquhar- 
son 's face grew 
whiter and whiter. 
Holding the box 
in her hand, she 
stared at Rhanee 

u Go at once," said the womjin, 
with an imperious gesture ; "he 
is lying there inside the hut, 
go to him. Crush the pearl 
and then hold it to his nostrils, 
Let him inhale the fragrance. 
What is within is the most 
potent thing in all the world. 
That pearl has cost many lives 
taken from a neighbouring tribe with which 
our tribe was at w*ar. It was given to 
me by my husband— I was to use it in 
my last extremity. The sahib avenged the 
life of the one who gave it to me — the 
extremity has come — the sahib shall have the 

Lil seemed to understand at last, She 
shook herself as if out of a sort of stupor, 
and, not even waiting to thank Rhanee Mee, 
went into the hut I followed her, 

Farquh arson was now lying in a state of 
complete collapse, his eyes were closed, his 
face was ghastly, his breath came at longer 
and longer intervals from his parched lips. 
He did not hear his wife's step or see her 
when she came into the darkened space. 
She knelt by the couch — I stood behind. 

M Dick," she cried, bending forward and 
pressing her lips to the forehead of the dying 
man. " I could not do what 1 said I 


would. I could not leave you — I have 
come back to you again. Smile or no smile, 

I cannot do without you ; I have come back 
to you." 

41 Tell her to break the pearl, there is not 
a moment to lose, 3 ' said Rhanee Mee. 

" Do what she tells you/ 3 I whispered, 

II Break it and hold it to his nostrils." 

Her fingers trembled, but she did what I 
told her. She crushed the hollow pearl, and 


it was 

immediately a gas, curious and volatile, 
escaped. It filled the room with a queer 
perfume — the sick man immediately opened 
his eyes. 

"Why — Lil 1" he said, with a smile. 

He closed them again, 

"He smiled," said Mrs, Farquharson, 
looking round at me. "He smiled like any- 
body t/st" She fell forward in a fainting fit. 

Facts are stronger than theories. Just as 
there was no apparent reason for the sub- 
jective symptoms which comprised Farquhar- 
son's horrible malady, so neither was there 
any cause known why the shock which the 
tiger's wounds had inflicted should get rid of 
it Such, however, was the case ; he not 
only recovered his bodily health, but the 
dreadful grimaces and unnatural laughter 
never again troubled him. He laughs now 
as heartily and pleasantly as any man I 
know* and his smile, Mrs. Farquharson says, 
is like surishwiBIidl from 


Some Peculiar Occupations. 

By Balliol Bruce. 

F you doubt the existence of 
a ** black-eye academy/' pay a 
visit to Mr. W. Clark son, in 
IVellington Street — prince of 
perruquiers, and monarch of 
*' make - up." The number 
of patients treated here in the festive season 
is surprising ; so are the stories put forward 
by sufferers to account for the disfigurement. 
The gradations in black eyes are notice- 
able in the tariff. Half a crown to ten 
shillings is the usual fee ; but Mr. Clarkson 
himself once went to Brussels in hot 
haste to paint out a virulent specimen ; on 
this occasion the artist's fee and expenses 
came to j^l ' Believe me, this is a serious 
business. The artists ask no questions ; 
they are tactful and diplomatic, listening to 
the (unsolicited) excuses given, and gravely 
assuring the victims that some day our 
scientists may be in a position to account 
for the shocking vagaries of bedstead-knobs 
and the unprovoked assaults committed by 
unexpected doors. 

In the photo, a black-eye artist of seventeen 
years' experience is seen at work. On the 
tabic at the back lies the paint-box. (t First 
of all/' said the artist, "a No. 5*< grease- 
paint is rubbed in, and next comes a No. 4, 
which is of a darker hue. Lily powder is 
used to finish off, and if there is a high colour 
on the cheek, a little carmine comes into 
play." The sound eye is also touched 
up to bring it into perfect 
accord with its damaged 
neighbour. The process takes 
about half an hour, and is 
conducted before a mirror. 
Patients are curiously nervous 
— they are sure they are going 
to be hurt. Allowing for a 
perfunctory morning toilet, 
the artist's handiwork will 
last about a week ; then it 
must be renewed, which 
means another fee. 

Some sufferers try to do 
the job themselves. They 
get pink and white chalk at 
the chemist's, but the result 
is a weird, ghastly face, with 
the discoloured optic far more 
noticeable than before. Here 
are a few cases selected at 
random : — 

1, Angry wife : threw book 

at husband, but missed him* He rushed 
front the house ; went to Clarion's and asked 
to have a black eye painted in t so as to fill 
his wife with remorse for the injury she was 
supposed to have inflicted ! 

2. Lady shopping; three days before her 
marriage. Boys playing tipcat. Tipcat flew 
and struck lady between the eyes, blackening 
both terribly. Anguish and despair. Wedding 
postponed. Friend suggested Clarkson. 
Work of art painted ; wedding, after all. 

3. Solicitor wanted black eye painted out 
before entering court. 

4. Ladies of high degree fought on the 
eve of a Drawing Room at Buckingham 
Palace. Black eyes. Successful treatment. 
Big gratuity to artist. 

5. One evening gentleman had black 
eye painted out ; came in next night with 
another ! 

Now, as to excuses. There are slipping 
whilst getting into and out of bed ; cab 
pulling up suddenly and throwing forward 
the occupant ; falling up the stairs, and the 
rest. For out-and-out original excuses we 
have the nursing of a robust baby boy whose 
Chubby fist did the awful deed ; and the 
popular preacher who was so carried away by 
his own eloquence that he il jabbed " himself 
in the eye. 

The water -wizard will detect for you the 
presence of running water beneath the surface 

by LiOOgle 

fAINTINU Ot 1 VI \<K iV!£S. 




JFYOJrt a Phtitit. Eiy fhhr-nham ft Ca. % Wri*ttm-*upcrMaff., 

of the ground. The chief exponent of this 
recondite art is Mr I^icester Gataker, of 
Weston-super-Mare, who is shown at work in 
the photo. Mr. Ga taker is here seen tracing 
a subterranean stream on Ix)rd Llangat- 
lock's estate, near Monmouth. Behind 
him are his lordship's agent and foreman of 
works, both of whom are literally trying their 
hands to discover whether or not they possess 
the peculiar power of water-divining. 

Although science has not recognised the 
divining-rod, still the fact remains that Mr. 
Gataker is extraordinarily successful in finding 
water where geological experts have failed. 
Moreover, he is employed by great land- 
owners and municipal bodies, so that he 
makes a handsome income out of the subtle 
affinity that exists between him and running 

Mr. Gataker discovered his strange faculty 
accidentally. Chancing to walk across a 
field, holding a V-shaped white-thorn twig, 
he suddenly felt it turn in his hand. 
Most water-wizards use the twig in their 
divinations ; but Mr. Gataker uses his 
hands only. He is made sensible of the 
existence of water beneath the surface by 
experiencing a mild tremor all up the muscles 
of his arms and a slight tingling sensation in 
the palms of his hands — not unlike a weak 
electric shock. But Mr. Gataker not merely 
finds water ; he also gauges the depth at 
which it will be found, and this he estimates 
according to the sensations felt. Many 
people, I learn, possess this power without 
knowing it 

During his career as a "dowser" (local 
name), Mr. Gataker has had to contend with a 


great deal of scepticism. 
And he has been tested. 
He was once shown a 
well in an unfamiliar 
place, and asked to trace 
the water that fed it. He 
set to work, but found 
he could trace no water 
in the vicinity. That 
well had been dry for 
years! Mr. Gataker 
long ago silenced those 
who suggested trickery. 
He adopted the prin- 
ciple, " No water, no 
pay ! " and now great 
landowners and local 
corporations have, 
through his agency, se- 
cured an abundant water 
supply in the form of 

gushing wells, where it was never even 

suspected that water existed. 

An extraordinary business is carried on at 
the Maison Pinet, 56, Berners Street, YY P 
M. Pinet is a professional heigh t-increaser. 
This is effected in two ways ; ( [ ) Hy using in 
one's boots the plush covered pads (called 
"elevators'*) seen in the photograph; and 
(2) by wearing specially made boots, For 
anything up to 1 >£in., the elevators are recom- 
mended ; up to 6in. the specially made boots. 
The elevators cost from 7s. 6d. to 15 s, 6d + 
per pair ; they are about 5m. long and 2 J^in, 
wide. The boots run up the scale from a 
sovereign or so to seven or eight guineas. 

Clerks out of employment, waitresses, shop- 
girls, footmen (to whom stature is everything), 
and even policemen, are all among M, Pinet's 
clients; also Army officers, members of Par- 
liament, lords and ladies, barristers, clerics of 
all degrees, and lovers of both sexes by the 
thousand. In many cases ladies use the 
elevators solely because they raise the instep 
and make the feet appear smaller 

A r eioi*.tf, LimiM. 






One hears of the dignified gentleman who 
left his elevators in his boots, when he put 
these outside his hotel bedroom door. When 
the boots were brought up polished, the pads 
were missing, and the gentleman was ** con- 
fined to his room." He didn't care to make 
inquiries about the things. When he did 
venture out^ he was somewhat lower in the 
eyes of his friends. The moral is, keep 
duplicate pairs. 

The turtle trade is unique. Nine - tenths 
of it is in the hands of Mr. T. K, Bel lis, of 
6, Jeffrey's Square, St Mary Axe T E.C The 

head-quarters of the trade is at Kingston, 
Jamaica, but nearly all the fishing is done 


on the coral reefs, north of the island. One 
hundred men work on ihc ci^ht to fifteen 
schooners. The catching is simple enough. 
Strong twine nets are stretched from rock 
to rock, and when the " fish ,! (as it is called) 
feels itself caught, it clings to the meshes 
with its fins. 

Each schooner returns to Kingston with 
eighty to 1 50 turtles, which are deposited in 
inclosures, filled with sea-water ; they are fed 
on turtle grass and taken as required. No 
turtle of more than iSolb. is eaten in 
England, whilst fish of 1401b, are most in 

The importer's standing order to his agent 
is. u Don't exceed 100 turtles by Royal Mail 

steamer, once a fortnight" The death-rate 
en route is great, although hose and sea- water 
and warm straw are used, and a liberal diet of 
oatmeal and lettuce supplied. In the train 
from Southampton numerous foot -warmers 
are placed to raise the temperature. Below 
forty degrees means death, M I remember, 7 ' 
said Mr. Bellis, *' landing seventy-five out of 
120, and then tost another thirty before the 
turtles reached my warehouse." 

Most of the fish are sold beforehand to 
restaurateurs and hotel and private thefs* 
Mr. Bellis imports about 2,500 turtles a 
year, the price ranging from tenpence to a 
shilling per pound. 

Though susceptible to cold, the turtles 
may be naikd to the 
deck of the ship, so as ' 
to prevent the creatures 
swarming all over the 
vessel. The seeming 
vitality of the turtle 
after decapitation is 
curious. Mr, Bellis 
once sent a big fish to 
an hotel in Newcastle, 
The eJkefcut the turtle's 
head off, and hung the 
body upside down to 
bleed. Twenty - four 
hours after that turtle 
knocked down a man- 
cook with one blow of 
its fin. A turtle's head 
was also mentioned 
which, severed from the 
body for many hours, 
would yet bite savagely 
at a piece of wood. 
As a rule turtles are not 
dangerous to handle, 
but they have inflicted 
severe injuries with their 
fins, A man was once carrying into a famous 
restaurant a very large turtle, and as he was 
placing it on the fioor, the creature snapped 
his nose clean off. 

The next peculiar occupation is truffle- 
hunting. The photo, was specially taken by 
Messrs. Louis Bernard et Cie,, of Carpentry 
at the instance of Mr. Paul Winter, of ^o 7 
Mark Lane, E.C. It shows a cavcur (or 
truffle-hunter) and his dog at work in the 

The average truffle isn't much bigger than 
a large walnut j it is black, and has a warty 
surface. The jjowerful odour of the fundus, 
especially just be^j^^jt^iunderstorm (truffle* 





Frew* u Pkotoffrapfu 

have been called "thunder-roots" and 
" swine-bread "), attracts many animals — 
even pigs. Pigs were trained and used to 
hunt for truffles, until dogs superseded them. 
The hunters seek truffles during the winter ; 
but they are baffled by a severe frost, which 
hardens the ground. The biggest 
truffle on record was unearthed two 
years ago ; it weighed 61b, io^oz + < 
and was presented by Messrs. Ber- 
nard to Messrs. Morel Bros., Cobbett 
and Son T Limited, of Pall Mall. 

Truffles are most abundant on 
mountains. When the trees are fully 
grown and the crop favourable, one 
hunter and dog can find from 45th 
to 5Slb. of truflfles in a day's work. 
But the majority of the men own 
very little hilly land, and only find 
17IU, ?olb., or 3jlb. per day. Some 
seasons the truffle crop is an utter 
failure. Messrs. Bernard handle every 
year between 70,0001b, and 75,0001b. 
of truffles, the bulk being preserved. 
In the season, however, London and 
other great cities receive by parcel- 
post baskets of fresh truffles weighing 
7lb. to gib. 

When the dog has found a truffle, 
he stops, sniffing, on the spot. He is 
then rewarded with a scrap of food, 
and his master digs up the truffle, 
puts it in his wallet, and makes for 
another tree ; for it is beneath trees 
that this fungus is found* 

YoJ. atiti-— 3©- 

The working of devices in 
human hair is virtually a 
lost art. I am indebted for 
these details to Messrs. Chas, 
Packer and Co., of Regent 
Street, tvho kindly lent me 
the floral trophy worked in 
hair, and inclosed in a glass 
case, which is here repro- 
duced. It is a romantic 
story. Somewhere in the 
forties a certain Swiss shep- 
herd, Antonio Forrer, was 
tending his flocks ; and like 
(iiotto, he was a bit of an 
artist. Instead of drawing, 
however, he used to weave 
hair and wool into quaint 

An English lady saw some 
of his work, brought him 
over to England, and edu- 
cated him at her own 
expense. Next we find him 
set up in business in Regent Street His 
trade grew, and he foresaw a craze. Accord- 
ingly, he sent over to Switzerland for a lot 
of pauper crippled girls, whom he said he 
would teach. In 1850^ Forrer had a grand 
house in a southern suburb, and he lived 




From a Phtfc. (*t Gimp Ni(tm§ f LimU*d, 




like a prince on ^io,ooo a year The 
craze was now at its height. Provision 
would be left in wills for mourning 
brooches at ^20 each ; mourning rings, 
and so on. In London a Ion a there were 
100 hair-working houses. Special artists 
prepared designs. Large brooches had hair 
designs set in them ; pencil and cigarette 
cases were covered with hair ; and waist- 
belts even were prepared from long tresses* 
Finally, regular pictures were prepared in 
hair on various backgrounds. One of these 
depicted somebody's birthplace — a pretty 
little French village, with brook, trees, houses, 
and even the names over the shops, all 
wrought in hair. One man had his dead 
wife's hair turned 
into an artistic 
landscape, after 
CoroL The frame 
was subsequently 
covered with the 
hair of the second 
wife ! Captains ot 
sailing ships 
brought orders 
from all parts ot 
the world ; and 
one gentleman had 
an wetting dress tie 
woven out of the 
snow-white hair of 
his dead partner. 

After the Prince 
Consort's death, 
Her Majesty had 
some of his hair 
made into a brace- 
let. Now, the 

however, keeps neither horses nor coaches, 
but hires these from people like Seaward, of 
Islington, Mr, Seaward keeps a hundred 
funeral horses, so that a visit to his stables is 
an interesting experience. 

"It is dangerous," said one of my in- 
formants, "to leave a pair of these black 
stallions outside public-houses, when return- 
ing from a funeral ; for these animals fight 
with great ferocity/' Once, at a very small 
funeral, the coachman lent a hand with 
the coffin ; but, in his absence, the horses 
ran amuck among the tombstones, which 
went down like ninepins in all directions, 
A white spot takes a large sum off the 
value of a funeral horse. In the photo. 


Queen stipulated 

that there were to be no joinings ; but this was 
impossible, the Prince's hair being too short- 
However, the Queen's instructions were 
carried out, and the bracelet delivered. 
Chancing to be toying with it one day, Her 
Majesty drew out a hair three times the 
length of the Prince's hair ; then there was 
trouble. The bracelet was inspected, and it 
was found that while much of it was Prince 
Albert's hair, the greater part of it was not. 

The last curious industry deals with funeral 
horses, Mr. Robert Roe, of Kennington 
Park Road> has imported these stately 
animals for upwards of twenty -five years. 
It seems they come from Friesland and 
Zeeland, and cost from ^40 to ^70. 
There must be about nine hundred funeral 
horses in London. The average undertaker, 

Digitized by v_*OOQlc 

one of Mr, Seawards men is painting a 
horse's white fetlock with a mixture of lamp- 
black and oil. A white star on the forehead 
may be covered by the animal's own foretop. 

On the right-hand side in the photo, will 
be seen hanging a horse's tail. This is sent 
to the country with a "composite" horse— 
a Dutch black, not used for the best funeral 
work, owing to his lack of tail. He is sold 
to a country jobmaster, with a separate flow- 
ing tail, bought in Holland for a shilling or 
two. In the daytime, the "composite" 
horse conducts funerals, the tail fastened on 
with a strap ; but at night he discards it, 
and gaily takes people to and from the 

Worn-out funeral horses, one is horrified 
to learn, are shipped back to Holland and 
Belgium, u*At'*-e ihty ore. mtent 


The Flowery Islands. 

By Sir George Newnes, Bart. 

From a PheUk &|rl 


[Frith tt Vt*+ 


from school- 
days onwards 
has heard 
from time to 
time of the Scilly Isles, 
but comparatively few 
people ever have the 
opportunity of seeing 
rhem« They are on the 
way lo nowhere, and 
unless you live in Corn- 
wall, and are enticed by 
summer excursion 
steamers, there is no 
chance, as a rule, to 
visit them, and yet they 
are most interesting and, 
so far as this country, 
at any rate, is concerned, 

Right out on the 
broad Atlantic a cluster 
of rocky islands ; five 
of them inhabited, and 
producing beautiful and 

:ize<j by 


at the same time profit- 
able growth, the others 
of little value. 

The two features of 
the Scilly Islands pre- 
sent a striking contrast : 
flowers and storms; 
beauty and shipwreck. 
In tempestuous, and 
more especially in fo^y, 
weather they have 
proved a death-trap to 
many an unhappy mari- 
ner, though the great 
utility of the lighthouses 
around our coast is 
shown by the fact that 
since they have been 
made efficient on Scilly 
the shipwrecks have 
been comparatively few. 

As a set-off to the 

havoc that the islands 

have worked at times is 

the fact that they have 

b y it.u.p>tttm,rc»^k\C also proved a place of 





shelter. It is now pro- 
posed to make them of 
groat use to our Navy, by 
fortifying them and estab- 
lishing a coaling-station and a harbour. The 
islands form a sort of lake in the ocean, and 
when a breakwater has been made to the 
westward, where the largest area of the 
Atlantic is seen, there will bo almost a 
perfect protection from every wind that blows, 

There is no coaling-station for our Fleet 
between Ushant and Ireland, and it is 
conceivable that under certain circum- 
stances the Scilly Islands miyht prove most 

It is supposed, though no one knows, that 
Scilly was joined to the mainland, and there 
is a tradition amongst the people that at one 
time a horse's head could have stopped all 
the water that flowed between Scilly and 
what is called I^and^s End ; but there is now 
nearly thirty miles of 
rolling sea between 

If, however, the 
Scilly Islands have 
suffered through the 
angry storms of the 
Atlantic, they have 
enjoyed the soft em- 
braces of the warm 
Gulf Stream, which 
comes across it. This 
flows all round the 
islands and keeps an 
equable temperature. 
For this reason it is 
possible to grow cer- 
tain flowers about two 
months earlier than 
anywhere else in ¥*m + r*»* »> 


From a Ffcifo ftp J. Wnteniuu it &hul 

Britain, and in consequence of that fact a 
very large industry has been developed, 

Mr. Augustus Dorien Smith was for nearly 
forty years Lord Proprietor of the Island, and 
he commenced and encouraged the cultivation 
of early flowers on a large scale. He was 
called, like his successor, Mr. Algernon Dorien 
Smith, ** Ix)rd Proprietor of the Island/' 
although the Scillies are leased from the 
I )uchy of Cornwall. Still, no one grudges the 
Dorien Smiths their title, as they have done 
so much for the island and have been 
practically kings of the place. 

Upon the Island of Tresco is situated 


by Google 

Original from 



their residence — a 
large one, with all the 
comforts of a modern 
English mansion. Sur- 
rounding it are many 
acres of gardens con- 
taining Rowers and 
tropical plants, many 
of which are not to 
be met anywhere north 
of the Mediterranean 
shores. One part of 
the grounds is called 
North and the other 
South Australia. The 

■L ]fkS.O> AT.IU-'.V Kut KtiWIFS h 

simwim:; a ^neater 


flower, but it is 
true that they die 
immediately after- 
wards. One is re- 
minded at every 
turn of the cele- 
brated tropical 
gardens of Mr. 
Han bury, near to 
Men tone, where, 


Long Walk separates 
the two, and here are 
found many trees, etc., 
which are indigenous 
to the soil of those dis- 
tant colonies. Among 
the more striking of 
the plants are gigantic 
cactus, gum-treesj and 
fuchsias, more like 
forest trees than garden 
plants. There is also 
a variety of palms from 
China, India, and 
Japan ; and aloes 
which are reputed to 
flower only once in a 

hundred years, and then to die, as if the 
display of their fragrance and beauty were 
fatal to them. As a matter of fact, very few 
of them do take as long as that before they 


i^Toin I*h**UiM bit] 


[FYtthtt tV, 

as here, is a wealth and profusion of luxuriant 
growth* of rare and heautiful plants. On the 
hill above the gardens is a statue of Mr. 
Augustus Donen Smith, on which is an 




inscription stating that for thirty-nine years 
he was Lord Proprietor of these Islands, 

Descending from this statue one comes 
to a lawn- tennis court, which is of itself 
a very common- 
pku e object com- 
pared with the 
wonderful beau- 
ties that the 
visitor has just 
witnessed, but 
even that has a 
special and in- 
deed a weird arid 
ghastly interest of 
its own. At one 
end of the court 

deed a depressing sight, knowing that these 
twenty or more figure-heads are, perhaps, all 
that are left of so many ships carrying human 
freight, and the disasters to which hurled 

hundreds of 
souls into 

We believe 
this curious 
and uncanny 
collection was 
made by Mr. 
Augustus, the 
uncle of the 
present Mr* 
Algern on 
Dorien Smith, 
This latter 
gentleman is a 
man, in the 
prime of life, 
full of vigour 
and strong 
personal individuality. He is often called 
" King Smith/' and his manner shows that 
he is not one who would like to be 
denied his own way, After all, kings are 
mortal, and it would be surprising if the 
King of the Scilly Islands did not, like 
all other Imperialists, show that he meant 
his royal will to be respected. But though 
be is controller of all the land in the 
island, and everyone has to go to him for 
permission to do anything upon it, still 
his is not an absolute monarchy. He has, 
like the Queen of the adjacent islands of 

ILDIKG in the tk\ms COURT. 

AKl"M i U M >, 

Ft*** by R it Pn*tvm. 
1 VmMncr, 

is a building for 
spectators, and 
this is embellish- 
ed, if one can 
use the word in 
such a connec- 
tion, by the figure* 

heads of ships 
which have been 
wrecked on the 

"l\> sensitive 
spirits this is tn- 



; ivhyanth; 


asj> MHgpftal from 

a:n ■■■■ ■ t r? 



Great Britain and Ireland, to put up with a 
county council, of which, however* as might 
be expected, he is chairman. The people 

will astonish most people to learn that no 
less than 500 tons of narcissus were sent 
from Scilly to the mainland, mostly bound 
for Co vent Garden Market. Ft is 
not that they grow in Scilly more 
beautifully or larger, but because 
they are some two months earlier. 

It is rather prosy to introduce 
into a description of lovely flowers 
sordid questions of monopoly and 
competition. But still these islanders 
have the chance of putting upon 
the market at a time when no one 
else can the results of their labours, 
and no one can blame them for 

FVdwi a Pforfa. by R. !i. i'ltjubm, Pnuawri 

on the islands are repre- 
sented in Parliament by 

the member for the Pen- 
zance Division of Corn- 

Bat perhaps the most 
interesting feature in re- 
gard to these beautiful 
islands is the enormous 
increase of the trade in 
early flowers, particularly 


/"Yohi n I'hoia. ha C, J, King, f-'cUiu- 

treating in a business-like and com- 
mercial manner the fortunate con- 
dition in which they find themselves. 
As we have said, the equable climate 3 

in consequence of the Gulf Stream, 

From a Photo, by R. H> Prwtott* Prntanre. 

narcissus and daffodils ; of the former 
some 150 varieties are grown. 

From very small beginnings this in- 
dustry has progressed, and last year it 


/Win l'h»t,..;:,.- fH(A cttf>. 




is the main reason for the early and successful 
growth of the flowers, but they must be pro- 
tected from certain winds, and large hedges 
are grown, so that the gardens look like 

are right out on the Western Ocean, not 
upon an Atlantic liiKrr, hut upon solid 
mother earth. Little frost or snow visits the 
isles, whilst in summer* intense heat is pre- 
vented by the cool Atlantic breezes. 
There is some talk of establish- 
ing a large sanatorium upon the 
islands. The history and traditions 
of the place are largely con- 
nected with shipwreck and drown- 
ing. The people do not call them- 
selves Englishmen or Cornish men, 

Ptofe. ttfi 


I l^rtMUyti. 

pat dies or allotments. It is a very 
important question this study of the 
protection of the flowers, and the in- 
habitants of the isles seem to have well 
mastered it. The quantity of flowers 


Uj v urAtj ROCK. 
J. Y'altnltne it £<m* 

rLEET WttfcCKCP, 1707. 
trvm a Hkoto, fry Jfrtt «* Gfe 

grown is steadily in- 
creasing, and in a few 
years' time the huge 
figure we have quoted 
will probably be far 
exceeded. Early pota- 
toes and tomatoes are 
also cultivated in large 
quantities. Altogether 
Scilly is well worth 
a visit. At first there 
is a curious sensation 
in feeling that you 

but Scillonians, and they are 
proud and fond of their birth- 
place. The rock scenery 
of some of the coast is im- 
posing, and here is perhaps 
the largest of the Ix>gan, or 
rot king-stones, a huge piece 
of rock so poised that it is 
possible for one person to 
move some hundred tons. 

Sir Walter Besant 
spent six weeks here 
writing his famous 
novel, gi Arm orel of 
Lyonesse," which 
gives a good insight 
into the legends and 
folk-lore of the place ; 
and certainly Scilly 
would be just the 
spot to inspire the 
novelist or the poet 
uith ideas of ro- 
mance, of rescue, 
and of tragedy ; rug- 
ged and bleak in 
some parts, cultured 
and sheltered in 



Of-ttfiffartfrQW here - 

Egerton Eastwick (Pleydell North). 

OU must realize the risk 
entailed* A new play by an 
unknown author; it is only 
of late that ladies — 

was not sufficiently sure of 
himself, or her, to say 
" women") ''have commenced to make their 
mark as playwrights." 

" But the beginning has been made," she 
said, smiling ; " if the work is good, the sex 
of the writer has ceased to be an objection — 
give iny work a chance," 

11 There is undoubted merit. Insight into 
character, fine touches, not too fine to escape 
the * gods J (an excess of delicate perception 
usually fails), bright dialogue, dramatic unity, 
rapid action. It really ought to succeed. 
And yet I have known a piece that seemed 
to have all these qualifications die on the 
first night- The thing is to make it go. 
Who the deuce is to play the part of 

Vol. Kiti.-27. 

Beatrice ? " He was walking up and down 
the room, talking more to himself than to 

"Do you think," she said, shyly, "that / 

He stopped in his v;alk and looked at her* 

** You ! " he said, in astonishment. 

She was certainly a beautiful woman, and 
there was about her an air of both power and 
fascination, the latter apparent in spite of a 
certain plainness, even poverty, of dress, 
which did not escape the practised eye of the 

" You," he repeated, with a touch of amuse- 
ment in his tone> and still regarding her 

She wisely remained silent 

"Tell me," he said, presently, " what put 
the idea into your head— was Beatrkt a 
piece of self portrait* ; re ? ?l 

Sh tlSffilff#MICHIGAN 



" I believe I could render the part as 
no one else could," she said, M because I 
know the truth of her story," 

He resumed his walk. 

11 Well, to tell you the truth, the likeness 
struck me, gesture, style — I don't know that 
I should have realized the possibilities of 
Beatrice if I had not seen you/ 5 

" Then I have already acted as her inter- 
preter ? ? ' 

"Just so — faith, if Beatrice were to tell 
her story to the pit as you told me yours the 
day you persuaded me to read the play — but 
the training ? You have no experience." 

11 Only as an amateur, but I would work 
hard, spare no effort - tT 

They discussed the point for another half- 
hour; finally it was arranged that, should the 
manager not see his way to making other more 
satisfactory arrangements — that is, should 
he not succeed in securing the services of 
Miss D'Aicy, the only suitable actress he 
could think of as likely to be available for the 
part in " A Modern Wife"— Mrs, Grey 
should study the r&k with a view to taking 
it herself. 

At any rate, the piece was to be produced 
at the Hyperion Theatre in six months' time. 

When Mrs. 
Grey had taken 
her departure, 
the manager sat 
for awhile in his 
comfortable den 
with the type- 
written copy of 
the play in his 
hand, speculat- 
ing upon the 
wisdom of his 
ve n ture, and 
certain peculiari- 
ties connected 
with it. Who 
was Mrs. Grey? 
Until she had 
written for a 
personal inter- 
view, he had 
never heard of 
hi r. 

0„ .1 - W WHO WAS 

n that ocra 

sion she had 

enclosed a photograph, which led him to 
imagine that she desired an engagement, 
and the photograph had induced him to 
grant the interview. Then she had offered 
him the play. That a woman hitherto un- 
known to the world should have written at 

the outset something that approached a 
masterpiece, was sufficiently startling, 

Although he felt sure that he was not 
aware of her true name and identity, he knew 
something of her history ; at least, he had 
reason to think so. She had given him an 
outline of the struggle and necessity which 
had driven her to make this histrionic effort, 
with a passion and intensity of pathos which 
had made him promise to read her work, and 
caused him promptly to keep his word. 

And now he was launched upon an enter- 
prise which to his sober sense seemed more 
than doubtful. He was not at all sure that 
she had not been acting from first to last : 
that he was not the victim of some outrageous 
plot of a masquerade. Perhaps she had 
stolen the play, There were tricks of style 
here and there which seemed familiar. He 
turned the pages again and again, but could 
come to no conclusion, except that the 
strength which he had always believed lacking 
to make a woman, even a good novelist, to 
write a good play, was manifest here. 

Another curious point was the similitude 
between the heroine and the author, Some 
of the very phrases used by Beatrice had 
been used by Mrs, Grey ; the gestures 

ascribed to her 
were the ges- 
tures which 
seemed to come 
so naturally to 
Mrs, Grey, This 
fact militated at 
least against the 
idea of theft. 

The address 
given by Mrs. 
Grey was 55, 
Clifton Road, 
Ramsgate ; she 
had been stay- 
ing in town in 
while the fate of 
her play was in 
abeyance ; but 
to-day, she had 
told Percy 
Marks, she was 
returning home ; 
the thought of 
that home, as she had in part revealed 
it to him, filled him now with compas- 
sionate regret. He had gathered that she 
was linked to a man who had grown help- 
less before - calami tv, and was assailed in 



which it took all her woman's wit and 
courage to save him. Yet she thought of 
him still as the hero and lover of her youth, 
and held that the harshness and cruelty 
of his fellows alone had driven him to 

The successful manager had not much 
sympathy to bestow upon this fool of 
fortune ; he had no belief in a relentless 
fate, and regarded hypersensitiveness as mere 
idiocy; but he admired the woman who 
sought so bravely to withstand disaster, and 
was interested in her fate. 

About a week later he wrote to Mrs. Grey. 
In a few lines he told her that, Miss D'Arcy 
having a prior engagement, he had decided 
upon offering to her, Mrs. Grey, the part of 
Beatrice in "A Modern Wife." 

As a result, it was to be supposed that 
Mrs. Grey removed to town, for during the 
succeeding months she was, as a matter of 
necessity, in constant attendance at the 
theatre ; but the secrecy with which she had 
in part chosen to surround her private life 
remained unbroken. 

After that first expansiveness, she never 
again referred to her husband or her home ; 
communications from the theatre were now 
addressed to a ladies 9 club ; her companion 
at rehearsal was an old woman, apparently 
a servant, as reticent as herself. 

They generally arrived on foot, alighting, 
as the manager discovered, from an omnibus 
in the main street near the Hyperion. 
Instincts both of wisdom and courtesy 
induced him to refrain from making any 
effort at present to penetrate her reserve. 

As to the success of his venture, his con- 
fidence increased as time went on. Beatrice 
appeared to be under the influence of some 
over-mastering purpose which enabled her to 
surmount the difficulties inseparable from her 
inexperience, and to endow the part with 
startling vitality. Her fire was enough even 
to have redeemed stupidity, and she had 
none to encounter : it communicated itself 
to the rest of the company, it communi- 
cated itself to him, Percy Marks, the 
actor-manager, who played the part of the 
ruined genius, the husband of the " Modern 

She led, thrilled, enthralled him. The 
pathos of failure crept into his marrow, and 
he began to understand its possibilities for the 
first time. She thrust them home upon him, 
and made him suffer all their torture ; up to 
the last scene where she saved him from 
cowardly surrender. But he sometimes 
wondered whether she would ever act again ;, 

whether she were acting now. She seemed 
to be merely telling a story which she was 
determined the world should hear ; it seemed 
impossible that she could ever assimilate any 
other part as she assimilated this. She was 
so desperately true. 

The critical night drew near. The play 
was announced as the work of Lucian Grey, 
an author hitherto unknown, but a rumour 
had circulated to the effect that it had been 
written by the new actress who was engaged 
for the leading part, and not a little specula- 
tion and curiosity were consequently rife in 
theatrical circles. At the close of the 
last rehearsal, Percy Marks said to Mrs. 
Grey :— 

" The author will, of course, be called. I 
hope you will be ready to respond ? " 

" To be hissed ? " she said. 

" I have no fear of it." 

" Nor have I, really — it shall succeed. I 
will make them love me, pity me, and then — 
yes — if the author is called, the author will 
appear — upon one condition." 

She had of late dressed more effectively 
than of old. To-day, she wore a long coat 
of dark velvet that enhanced the sensitive 
delicacy of her face ; her red-brown hair 
showed in thick coils beneath her velvet 
toque, and her grey eyes had taken, in her 
excitement, a depth of shadow which made 
them seem purple, aftnost black. 

"What is the condition?" he asked, 
eagerly. He foresaw in the disclosure of 
her double identity the climax of his 

"That so long as the piece draws, and 
proves a financial success, you will not, 
under any pretext, take it off the boards 
under one hundred nights." 

" That promise is easily given — while 
it succeeds, why should I wish to with- 
draw it ? " 

"Why, indeed? This is merely a whim 
of mine — give me your promise in 

He demurred. " I hope it will run three 
hundred nights," he said, evasively. " What 
you ask is unusual and quite unnecessary." 

" Nevertheless, grant me this favour." 

He tried to put her off, until he saw signs 
of restive rebellion. He was very much in 
her power, and after all, the promise seemed 
a safe one. What if at the last she were to 
throw him over, spoil everything, as he almost 
believed it was in her to do, if she were 
thwarted ? At last he consented. He drew 
up and signed an agreement to the effect 
that jfori.-Pp reason but legitimate failure 



would he withdraw u A Modern Wife " of a white, eager face, and the figure of a 

under the time specified. itfpm 

The following night his expectations were But now the call was growing imperious: 

more than realized. The house was crowded " Author ! Author ! " and she showed no sign 


The audience was at first good-tempered 
(Percy Marks was eminently popular), then 
appreciative, then enthusiastic. As the cur- 
tain fell the Storm of applause rolled from 
stalls to gallery, and from gallery to stalls, 
and back again. 

It was one of those unqualified triumphs 
which more than once the manager had 
scored by his venturous daring and apprecia- 
tive judgment. And yet a sense of annoyance 
mingled with his satisfaction. Mrs. Grey 
had done splendidly ; had surmounted inevit 
abb difficulties with marvellous courage; had 
hardly, after the first scene, shown appreciable 
signs of nervousness. She was called for 
again and again with him before the cry of 
*' Author!" arose. She had justified his 
expectations, but he was conscious that she 
had not played for him or to him alone. 

More than once he had seen her eyes fixed 
upon a box to the left of the stage, and in 
the shadow at the back he had caught sight 

of response. He turned towards her quickly ; 
her face had grown ashen — she was trembling 
from head to foot. 

"Go on/' she whispered, sl tell them that 
the author is ill — will come presently — ask 
them to wait— give tne five minutes— only 
three :} — her hand was pressed to her side. 

He was really alarmed, and hurried before 
the curtain to make his little speech. He 
was always welcome and listened to, When 
he returned he found her standing where 
he had left her, but by her side was a 
stranger, a man, the same he had seen in 
the box. 

"Here," she said, rapidly, "is the author, 
the true Lucia n Grey ; he is ready to appear, 
and receive his rights." 

Marks drew back— surely he recognised 
this man, 

" Remember your promise," she said, 
imperiously^ ■ 





once more imperative* With a quick motion 
of her lithe white hands, she pushed the 
man who had just joined her towards the 

" What does this mean ? " said Percy 
Marks, angrily, when he stood with her 

(t It was he wrote * A Modern Wife/ He 

The silence of the end had fallen upon the 
auditorium, John Graham had received his 
ovation, which had been mixed with consider- 
able surprise, and returned. 

He stood before them, transformed The 
pallid cheeks were burning, the eyes aflame 
with strange, mysterious light. 

Percy Marks was a clever man, able to 


—my husband — you know him ; he sent 
you the play under another title, and you 
would not look at it Five years ago, when 
you were a critic, you ruined him. Do you 
remember? But for me, you w r ould have 
killed him, body and soul and brain— John 
Graham, do you remember?*' 

She spoke with quick catches in her 
breath, with rapid, eager pleading. 

"And he has played this trick upon me," 
he said, angrily, " using you ? " 

11 No, no not he. It was my doing — he 
never knew until this evening when he sat in 
the box there and heard his own words —saw 
ym acting them — oh ! — shall I ever forget It ? 
— the triumph, the joy. Forgive me, oh, you 
must forgive me- I could not see him die 
before my face \ die of disappointment, 
despair. Look, he is coming." 

recognise a mistake, and could atone 
generously. He stretched out his hand, 

" Allow me to congratulate you/' he said, 
frankly, M as much upon the success of your 
wife as upon your own. After all, it is to 
her that both your thanks and mine are due. 
Will you sup with me to-night ? " 

But that night the Grahams prefened to 
go home, to the unpretentious rooms where 
their child lay sleeping, and which they had 
taken six months previously, when M Mrs, 
Grey" entered upon her engagement at the 

" A Modern Wife " ran over the one 
hundred nights, and Percy Marks had no 
cause to regret his venture, Mrs. Grey 
played Beatrice to the end, but she never 
again appeared upon the boards. 

She had had " Her One Inspiration/' 

by Google 

Original from 

Policemen of the World. 

By C. S. Pelham-C linton. 

OLICEMEN are a necessary 
evil, and the world is full of 
them. Every civilized, edu- 
cated, and dignified nation is 
compelled to feed a large 
number in order to hunt 
rascals down and to help the women across 
the street ; and in every country where law 
is a thing unknown, every man is his own 
policeman, and takes care of the above-named 
things for himself. 

Now, for several years, the "bobby" has 
been my hobby, and in my travels I have 

an embryo smile, as if he were running in 
competition with the next man's white shirt : 
and three of them carry' "wristers " on their 
belts. With all their ungainliness and lack 
of beauty, however, they are a decidedly 
efficient set of men, and manage to keep the 
wayward citizens of South Africa in gentle- 
manly order. 

The Guardias Civiles, or Civil Guard, 
of Spain are, without exception, one of 
the finest bodies of men in any part of 
Europe. They are, perhaps, only equalled 
by the Irish Constabulary, a body they 

Prm\ « /ttpto. top] 

N.vrrvE, ]\n.ia-..Yii-:\, caul town. 

[H. ft Lennmi <t Co, t t r fl/« loam. 

often noted the great difference in the police- 
men of the world. As the photographs 
which I have collected will show, there is a 
wide difference in dress, feature, and stature. 
Some of the [C bobbies " are handsome men, 
carrying In their face and form the dignity of 
strength. Others wear upon their brow the 
care of long hours and small pay. And 
some are so ugly that you would have a fit 
if you met them late at night. 

To show you at once that some bobbies are 
not Apollos, I begin with the native police 
of South Africa. There are four of them, 
standing against a stone wall The man on 
the right is a fierce man, and his set lips are 
a warning that the way of the transgressor is 
indeed hard. The bobby on the left wears 

very much resemble, though, happily, at 
the present time, the latter have not the 
same disagreeable duties to perform as do 
their Spanish confreres. It is not so very 
long since travelling in Spain was quite as 
dangerous as, if not more than, a trip 
through Kashmir, or other equally out-of-the- 
way part of the world. The absence of rail- 
ways, and the difficulties of communication, 
which, to a certain extent, still obtain, made 
travelling as dangerous as it was in England in 
the old posting days, when "Stand and deliver" 
was frequently heard on Hounslow Heath and 
other parts near London. The Spanish 
highwayman, however, usually reversed the 
order of action, making you a target first of 

""• l!,feTF9reM unpu " c,ured 



portions of your anatomy to deliver up your 
worldly goods. In 1845 the Civil Guard 
was established, and the duty of its members 
is to patrol the high roads and practically 
guard travellers. Since their enrolment, 
brigandage has almost entirely disappeared, 
and except in the most out-of-the-way 
portions anything like highway robbery is a 
thing of the past. Their power is almost 
absolute, and it speaks wonderfully well for 
them as a body that it is very seldom abused, 
and if abused it is the malefactor who suffers, 
and not the jjeaceable citizen ! 


from a Photo, by the Pf^topraptiw Company of Madrid, 

The Guardias Civiles are scattered all over 
the country in pairs or squads, and the 
patrolling is invariably done in couples, the 
order being to march, when on patrol, fifteen 
yards apart There are always two guards 
on each train, and with their curiously 
shaped hats, dark blue tunics, and yellow 
belts, their cloaks hung over their shoulders, 
and their quaint, rather old-fashioned gaiters, 
they make a picturesque effect when, im- 
mediately the train stops at a station, the 
two get out and march up and down the 
platform. There are in all about twenty-five 

thousand foot and five thousand mounted 
Guardias Civiles in the country. On proper 
representations one can always be obtained 
as an escort if required, and I believe that 
even in the beautiful cork woods near 
Gibraltar, which are a favourite pic-nic 
ground for the garrison and tourists, if a 
party is known to be visiting that picturesque 
spot, the Guardia is generally to be found 
handy, though I have never heard of there 
being any need of his services; the idea is 
evidently that prevention is better than cure. 
Besides these, there are the Municipal Police, 


From a Phataffraph. 

who meander round in an amiable fashion 
and look after the cleanliness of the streets, 
and are supposed to direct the traffic, which 
they generally do by allowing the traffic 
to direct itself. Their uniform is very much 
the same as that of the Ordenne Publico, 
or Police of Public Order, who are paid by 
the city and not by the State, the chief 
difference being that they wear green gloves 
instead of white, and wear belts outside the 
tunic ; their caps are much the same, but 
they have the municipal coat-of-arms on the 




\\\\ \.\\ \\\ Nhll'U ivl tvKM l-V 


Tin* Gibraltar (Hiliet* aie dressed very much 
I h^ mum* &% tho*e in Kngland t excepting that 
ihev haw a ^hh! Jcal imw silver *>n their 
hehueK They have apparently a pwd ileal 
le« ti> dv\ a* the xoUliei* are chiefly looked 
alter h\ their own police ami the patrols. 
One of their iKYupatkma seems to be to 
wauh the squabble* Ivtween passengers 
Uiiilm^ llvni the Meameis and the txxitmen, 
and *hen a cvmtut mvu^ imminent, at the 
U*t numtent u* e\>*ite u> the tt\H\t ami 
e*iaKi\h older. If the police hastened thetr 
u v ovementt 4 liltU\ ti^Horo h> Gibraltar in 
\<^i itun an otheut va^eicv would find 
liMs Und*:*g a jewd deal le«> tm!a:in$» 

tWautUtti a* U the io*ti of Xap*^ half 
tV pVavase i 1 * the \ix!t ts marred by 
i'V jtiv*>4*> eiueltv to atnuuU owe s*e* on 
t?\\H\ x\l^ ; it uv Jt Nstf v** *Ki:ne ott th^ 

trv tttUvt oav^o* lut'-.jtt» a* *C i* bv ;he 

Vfr I'^C ^tvium^s eti :s::*ca* *evi 

vuo'.v lo Jfcti :»Kt's, I t> : *V iw *oc c Smfrr 

Iv a >ic to v;uniK.Hi ;i* ci\v^ tf" vjj S? J*> 


vet^ ^\i"l m* :vn ua'i 5*ivc ui*:*\*rtBft *t:a 

m \vi 3*axi IS? Xva r x^- rr Lvix* f JJak< 

'it, e aUv^V* W <vHK'oi :>c :ra:hc, a* '.itd^ 

*i> :.ivt, a^ :*v* oc 5o ;H«*t!jji^w^ . t?uc t* 

these respects, as there is as little cmeky to 
animals to Ijc seen as there is in lxmdcm, 
and the traffic is certainly better regulated 
than in most towns of Europe. 

The police of Italy is divided into five 
budieK, or sections, the first being the 
Curnbinieri, who wear a dark blue tail-coat 
and trousers, with red band and thread silver 
buttons and ornaments, and a cocked hat 
with tricolor cockade and tuft, and gloves 
and sword* The second section is the 
(hiardic di Publica Sinirrezza, or Guards of 
Public Safety, who wear a dark blue tunic 
with light blue ornaments, grey trousers, a 
round cap with a peak, gloves, a small sword, 
ami a revolver, Poth of these belong to 
tlie military service, and are entitled to a 
pension, The men can rise from the ranks 
to be officers, but cannot advance beyond 
the rank of captain. The other police are 
the Municipal Police, the Forest Guards, 
and the Guard ie Campestri, who look after 
the fields and farms, these last three being 
local bodies. The service Ls, of course, 

The Pope's Swiss Body-guard may perhaps 
come under the head of a police, though 


'» JCttY-*fti:<it!iJ* 



from n r/tato .■-.■ j 

they are more of 
a f military body ; 
their uniform is 
one of the most 
picturesque in 
Europe, the only 
other equally fanci- 
ful costume being 
our beefeater's. 

The Japanese 
police are very 
picturesque, espe- 
cially in their 
summer costume. 
Dressed in white, 
with a sort of cape 
attached to their 
hats hanging down 
on their shoulders, 
they may often be 
seen walking along 
the street two by 
two. In speaking 
of the photograph 
here reproduced, 
Mr. A* R. G, Clark, 
the manager of 
Messrs. North and 
Rae's well-known 
firm in Yokohama, 
says : " I may men- 
tion that it is very 
difficult indeed to 


and was taken by 
Mr. O. A. Poole, a 
distinguished Yoko- 
hama amateur. 

The Roumanian 
police are a fine 
body of men, and 
are under the con- 
trol of the Govern- 
ment. In com- 
parison with the 
City of London or 
New York police, 
they are much more 
military looking, and 
their dress is smarter. 
In summer, they 
wear a canvas uni- 
form, and at all 
times carry a sword 
and loaded revolver. 
Through the kind- 
ness of Mr. N. Sao 
Marin, Director of the Prefecture 
of Police, I am able to present 
two photographs- of Roumanians, 
showing the winter costume and 
full dress. 

Try as I would in Vienna, I was 
not able to obtain any photographs 

[O. A Foal*, £*£., Yukuttunta. 


Fnmt a Photograph, 

obtain such picures, as 
the native 'Robert 1 must be snapped un- 
awareSj and very few good negatives exist." 
The photograph is certainly an excellent one ? 

Vol, X1H.- 3e 

■^i^uJiirfiWi _ ™\ r y t y3i | *^ija m full d**^ 

From a Fhetoprapk 



of the police 
there, which was 
the more aggra- 
vating as, both 
in uniform and 
appearance, they 
are as smart a 
body of men as 
anyone could 
wish to see. 
shortly after- 
wards, by the 
kindness of Mr 
M. Feldschark, 
the B ri t is h 
Consul -General 
in Vienna, I 
obtained some 
excellent photo- 
graphs of the 
Viennese police, 
and those of 
Bohemia as well 
The uniform of 
the Viennese 
gendarme is one 
of the most pic- 
turesque of any 
in Europe — of 
the regular 
police, that is ; 

it consists of dark green tunic, blue-grey 

trousers with madder-red trimming, a blue- 
grey cloak with madder-red 

facings, a chasseur hat with 

a tuft of dark green feathers, 

and they are armed with a 

sword and Mannlicher rifle. 

They are a gendarmerie, 

or almost military body, 

organized for the main- 
tenance of public order 

and security all over the 

country, with the exception 

of large towns, such as 

Vienna, Prague, etc, where . 

a town police is in exist- 
ence. As I said before, 

the Viennese police are a 

very smart-looking body of 

men ; the mounted men 

in particular, with their 

gumtlet gloves, high boots, 

dark blue cloth jackets, 

and lighter trousers* and a 

leather belt across the 

chest, have a very spruce 

appearance, The ordinary 

From a Pttiitopraph* 

policemen have a black cloth dress, with red 
facings, a black metal helmet with an eagle 
in nickel, and are armed with a sword. The 
inspector's dress is very much the same, 

excepting that 
the ornaments 
are silver, and 
the stripes on 
the arm are 
silver braid, 

The Prague 
police have a 
handsome uni- 
form, with a 
curious hat, 
almost like an 
English pot - 
hat, with a 
square crown 
and a point, 
and with a 
bunch of fea- 
thers at the 
side. The 
mounted men 
have uncom- 
monly good 
horses, and sit 
extremely well 
I was rather 
with the police 
of Berlin, vho 
AV.TKI/N cENDA^l '" though a fine 

Original from 






body of men as regards size, showed a great 
deal too much disposition to girth. They 
are, however, extremely serviceable in regulat- 
ing the traffic, and I watched the way they 

kept the people 
back on the 
pavement, while 
the German Em- 
peror was riding 
up Unter den 
Linden, with a 
good deal of 
curiosity, as 
they showed 
much firmness, 
and yet wen- 
very good- 
natured and 
polite through it 
all. Their uni- 
form is dark 

most gorgeous officials of all are the Custom 
House police, who have a much more gaudy 

I suppose the French policeman is almost 
as well known to English people as the 
English one. The uniform of the gendarme 
i"s a dark blue tunic edged with red, 
rather lighter blue trousers, black braid 
epaulettes, a cocked hat with silver braid, 
and aiguillettes of white thread, He is 
armed with a revolver. The mounted 
gendarmes have the same uniform with a 
cross- belt of buff leather, a cloak lined 
with scarlet cloth, and are armed with a 
sword and carbine. The ordinary town 
policeman is dressed in darker colours, and 
has the regulation of the traffic in his hands. 
I did not visit Serajevo, but Mr. Freeman, 
the British Consul there, kindly sent me 
photographs of the Bosnian police, with the 
following information ; — 

11 There are in Bosnia and the 
Herzegovina gendarmes, or rural 
police, finanzwache, or Custom 
House guards, and town police, 
'he inclosed photographs are all 
of the latter, but the uniforms of 
the others are very similar. The 
Christian members of all three 


blue s and they wear a 
helmet of shiny leather, 
with a band of nickel and 
arms of the same metal, 

For some reason or 
other the powers that be 
at the Hague declined to 
let me have photographs 
of their police, but offered 
a picture of a fireman 
instead. What the con- 
nection between the two 
is I rather fail to see, but 
it was doubtless kindly 
meant. However, the 
terror to evil-doers in the 
Netherlands is dressed in 
a dark blue tunic and trousers, and wears a 
shiny helmet, and carries a short, heavy 
sword, which he is only allowed 10 use in 
desperate emergencies. The rural policeman 
much resembles his town brother, but the 

tivinai mivPitH !->fcRt;ij:*T uji ville- [LiUktffrattK 



forces wear the Austrian 
cap, the Mohammedans 
the fez, All the uniforms 
are dark green ; the gen- 
da nes and the town 
police have red facings, 
and the latter, when on 
duty, wear a metal plate 
with their numbers, The 
gendarmes carry a Kro- 
patrhek rifle and a sword- 
bayonet, the policemen 
only a sword- The 
Custom House guards 
have green facings, and 
carry a Wernde rifle and 

As regards size, the 
Russian policemen arc 
the biggest men of any 
in Europe, and compare 
in this respect with the 
police of New York, 
though what is known as 
the Broadway squad in 
the trans - Atlantic city 
can, I think, give inches 
in size to any body of 
men in Europe. 

The Russian 
force is divided 
into three sec- 
tions, the Urban, 
Suburban, and 
River police. 
The uniform of 
the Urban police 
is black, with 
yellow and red 
facings, and in 
cold weather they 
have a heavy great 
coat, and round 
their waists is i 
belt carrying a 
short sword and 
a revolver ; the 
uniform of the 
Suburban section 
is black with pur- 
ple facings, and 
the River police 
have black with 
white facings. 
There is also, in 
various parts, a 
mounted police, 
and I noticed 
these particularly 

in Moscow, their uniform 
partaking much mure of 
a m i 1 i tary cha racter. Th e 
Russian policemen are 
drawn from soldiers who 
have done their service 
in the regular army, but 
it is not a military corps, 
and the men are not 
entitled to pension on 
retirement. The rank 
and file cannot, as a rule, 
become officers, these 
last being chiefly chosen 
from the regular army, 
and I must make a pass- 
ing tribute to the extra- 
ordinary politeness and 
courtesy shown to our 
party by the chief of 
the Kremlin district, at 
Moscow. Seeing we were 
strangers, on the occasion 
of one of the chief fetes 
there, he not only gave 
us admission to the 
church, but allowed us to 
return in the procession 
to the Church of 
the Assumption, 
and afterwards 
emphasized his 
civility by taking 
the trouble to 
come up and ask 
if he could be of 
any further ser- 
vice to us. Good- 
natured and civil 
as are the majority 
of our English 
inspectors, I fancy 
very few of them 
would show such 
gratuitous civility 
and such great 
kindness to entire 
strangers- I say 
this without any 
intention of dis- 
paraging the most 
excellent police of 

The Fiji Islands 

are kept in order 

by a body called 

11 the u Armed 

_CHKhftWe Constabu- 

LHMopnij* lary," From a 




resident of Sura, I have received photographs 

showing these men outside the Sura Barracks, 

The man on the right 

presenting arms is the 

common soldier - police - 

man, with black tunic 

and black facings. The 

man on the left is an 

officer. His tunic of dark 

blue with scarlet facings 

contrasts strikingly with 

the scalloped kilt of white 

linen. Note the curious 

manner in which the 

native Fiji policeman 

wears his hair. 

In the Straits Settle- 
ments, the police force 
numbers over 2,000, of 
whom about too are 
Europeans. The accom- 
panying photographs 
show the well - known 
Sikh and Malay police- 
men. The first - named 
" bobby/' with gun on 
shoulder, is a picturesque 
figure. The gun is used 
when the Sikh is on 
guard at the treasury or 


Lrovernment offices. At Frwarhct t >.b V M<»»dtoo,,&i*eap<>™- 

other times he 
wears the side - 
sword on'y. The 
second Singapore 
photograph shows 
the native Malay 

In passing, I may 
say that the police 
forces in the various 
British Colonies are 
modelled on the 
lines established in 
the mother country, 
In many of the 
Colonial cities and 
towns, the police 
legislation is based 
upon metropolitan 
enactments, and 
the expense of the 
police establish- 
ments is borne by 
the Col onial 
revenue. British 
India is divided 
into police districts, 
hut the system 
differs slightly in the different presidencies. 
All the British Indian police are in uniform, 


From a Photo* by Mom «* fth, Siapaport. 



and are trained in drill and 
in the use of fire-arms* The 
ordinary members of the force 
are natives, while the officers 
are nearly all Europeans, who 
have seen military service, 
By the Code or 1883, which 
has tended to make the force 
very efficient, the police hive 
a legal sanction for acts that 
in England are sanctioned 
by practice. Policemen take 
evidence, and have the power 
to compel the attendance of 
witnesses and to question 

Ftvin a Photo, hy Mttjvr Hwidt, Madras. 

them. In fact, as one great 
authority, Stephen, says, the 
police of India are far more 
important, and relatively more 
powerful, than the English 
police, owing to the smallness 
of the number of the Euro- 
pean magistrates and other 

The costume of the Madras 
police is less attractive than 
that of the Sikh. A gaily- 
coloured turban, dark jacket, 
white trousers, and sandals 

From a Photograph. 

make up the uniform, and 
the " bobby " carries a sword. 
The Montenegrin policeman, 
with his trusty pistol in his 
belt, is much smarter in 
appearance, stalwart and im- 

In Stockholm and Chris- 
tians the uniforms much 
resemble each other, being 
of dark blue, almost black, 
cloth, with brass buttons, and 
a brass plate on the shiny 
leather helmet, and they are 
armed with a short sword. 


JVpm 4 Vhvto. ty Dahlia/, S'btflhrfw 


From a Pfcofe to & Spurting EoMMMto*, 

Here is a policeman from 
l.aunceston, Tasmania, who 
measures 6ft. 2 in. in height. 
The number of the force in 
that town is about fifty, and 
they are often spoken of as 
41 a model police force." At 
present, the local police of 
Tasmania are under the con- 
trol of the local municipal 
councils, but it is very pro- 
bir.Hefittat, under a centrali- 
|™p(^Wj^^,;jilf.jthe police of 
toft far-off island will be 



under Government control. As will be 
noticed, the Tasmanian " bobby " is re- 
markably like the London (< peeler," and is 
quite as fine-looking. 

In Denmark the city and county police 
are also a distinct body — men who have been 
in the army being preferred, though military 
service is not essential. They receive a 
pension on retiring, but are allowed to follow 
any civil occupation in addition if so inclined. 
The ordinary policeman can be promoted to 
an inspectorship, which is about equal to a 
sergeantship in this country, and to rise 
higher and get command of a district he 

From a Photo, by tftot&cn & Simiruiinc*, CftfjenAupen, 

must pass an examination, and, after a few 
years' service in the ranks, is promoted as 
vacancies occur 

Belgium enjoys with Switzerland the 
reputation of being one of the least-policed 
S tat es of E u ro pe, Ther e i s^ ro u g h ly s pea king, 
one ''bobby" to every 350 persons. The 
duty of the gendarmerie^ or members of the 
horse and foot police, is to maintain internal 
order and peace. In this work they are aided 
by the M Guard Civique." 

It would be carrying coals to Newcastle to 
give a detailed description of the English 
police and their efficiency* It seems to be 

the custom nowadays to run them down on 
every occasion. Why, I never can see, for 
taking it all in all it is not too great praise to 
say they are the most efficient body of men 
in the world. There may be a few black 
sheep among them, and a few of them may 
not have read Lord Chesterfield's book on 
manners, but if their efficiency, readiness to 
oblige, and general civility were placed in one 
side of the balance, and the contrary attributes 
on the other side, I think everybody knows 
which side of the scale would reach the 
ground with a bump. Only travellers who 
have watched the traffic of foreign towns 

ItiU.L.IA.N I'Kl.IttMAN ] N" L'.\UK£h 

From u I '■''■. r .■■••. h 

extricate itself, more by good luck than good 
guidance, can appreciate the careful manner 
in which the gigantic mass of vehicles in 
London is managed by our friend the 
" bobby." 

In London, the " Metropolitan ,J and the 
"City" policemen are distinguished when on 
duty by the difference in the small canvas 
armlet worn on the left fore-arm. In the 
u City " this strap is of red and white stripes, 
while in all other parts of the Metropolis the 
stripes are of h\v\v nnd white. The Metro- 

and includes all places within a ratfms of fifteen 



miles of Charing Cross — 
except the "City." Jn the 
u one square mile" on the 
other side of Temple Bar, 
928 stalwart men, from the 
" Commissioner " down to 
the ordinary constable, guard 
the public from harm. The 
force costs about ^r 28,000 
a year. This sum is paid for 
entirely by the citizens, with- 
out Imperial aid, and the 
wages for each man is con- 
siderably in advance of police 
wages in the United King- 
dom. The Metropolitan 
force, up to December, 1895, 
numbered 15,27 i s and the 
cost of supporting it is partly 
borne by the Government. 

An equally efficient corps 
is the Irish Constabulary, 
which is, however, consider- 
ably more of a military force. 
Their good temper under 
difficulties and danger can 
be appreciated by those who, 
like myself, happened to be 
quartered in Ireland when 
the Emergency trouble com- 
menced, and the dark green 
uniforms and the 
stalwart forms 
they encased will 
be always remem- 
bered by those 
who have seen 
them in such try- 
ing circumstances 
as a first - class 
body of well- 
drilled guardians 
of the peace, 

I have already 
mentioned the 
New York police- 


Frtmi a Photo, by F. C, tt Stuart, Saitthnmpttm- 

man in terms of deserved 
praise. They — in fact all of 
the American policemen- 
are as fine a body of men 
as any in the world. In 
many of the Eastern cities, 
such as New York, Boston, 
Philadelphia, there is a 
strong sprinkling of Milesian 
blood in the multitude of 
officers and patrol m en , and 
it is said that many of them 
go on the Milesian principle 
of u hit him first and hold 
him afterwards/ 1 The "hit- 
ting " is done by means of a 
club or "billy 11 — a short 
stick of hardwood loaded 
with lead, about as long as 
the fore-arm. This stick has 
a particularly persuasive and 
somnolesccnt effect, and the 
day-billy, a smaller, but quite 
as powerful club, reduces the 
most violent criminal to a 
state of child-like and abject 
humility. The depressing 
thwack of the " billy/' and 
the charges against it, have 
often been heard ; but I, for 
one, can bear witness that, in 
all mv American 
travels, I have 
never known the 
u billy 1J to be put 
to an inhuman 
use. The Ameri- 
can policeman* 
by the way, is 
popularly known 
as a "cop/* and 
in certain portions 
of New York he 
wears the eupho- 
nious name of 
M de collar." 


From a Photo* by li. JV. Ti*uuinn r Jflno Vttrk CHtjf. 

by Google 

Original from 

Cliff-Climbing and Egg-Hunting, 

By L. S. Lewis, 

X egg -hunting, as in other 
things, there are degrees; and 
in this article I propose to deal 
only with the very highest 
form of this fascinating hobby, 
I refer more particularly to 
cliff-climbing, or, more properly, cliff-descend- 
ing, in search of eggs, Among the most 
distinguished adepts in this difficult and 
perilous rrt is— appropriately enough —one of 
the most popular officers in the British Army 
— Lieutenant-Colonel Wi Hough by- Verner, of 
the Rifle Brigade, who is, at this moment, 
a professor of military science at Sand- 
hurst As his egg-collecting adventures 
and stories would fill whole volumes, I have 
some difficulty in " boiling-down,'* as the 
saying is, even a tithe of the interesting 
material gathered at our interview. 

First of all, let me say that in the portrait 
reproduced on this page Colonel Verner is 
depicted in full climbing attire — knife, 
camera, ropes, and sling, or belt. He wears 
rope-soled shoes, which he bought for one 
peseta in Andalusia. 

u I began egg-hunting as soon as I could 
climb a tree," the Colonel said to me ; "and 
later on I used 
to assist my father 
in training his 
sporting hawks 
and falcons, of 
which he hid a 
large number." 

While stationed 
at Gibraltar, be- 
tween 1874 and 
iS8q, Colonel 
Verner had splen- 
did opportunities 
for indulging his 
favourite pastime. 
"The lowest — as 
to situation— and 
also the very first 
eagle's nest I ever 
took, was that of 
an Imperial eagle 
—a tree- nesting 
species- This nest 
was in a stunted 
tree, only 2oft + 
high, in the 
middle of an al- 
most impene- 

VoL m;i. 2y 

trable thicket, which was surrounded by a 
large swamp covered with reeds 10ft high." 
Here the great bird relied for security on 
the solitude of the swamp, and the diffi- 
culty of access to the tree. Certainly, Colonel 
Verner would never have reached that nest 
were it not for the assistance rendered by a 
couple of bare -legged Spanish leech- catchers, 
who beat down the reeds for him with their 

By the way, the manner of catching the 
leeches was simple, but loathsome. As the 
men beat the reeds, the leeches swam forward 
in battalions and fastened on to the Spaniards 1 
bare legs. When a sufficient number had 
taken the human bait, the catchers dislodged 
them and commenced again. The men 
required a pretty liberal diet to make up for 
the blood they lost whilst following their 
odious occupation. 

The gallant Colonel's highest nest (as 
compared with the lowest, mentioned above) 
was that of a golden eagle, which took up its 
abode in a dizzy crag, 2,800ft. above Jimena 1 
in Andalusia, 

Asked as to the details of his cliff-climbing 
outfit^ Colonel Verner said: "I take with 

me fSoft of 1 in. 
Alpine rope; 50ft. 
of 2 in. rope for 
* bad ' places ; a 
ball of strong 
twine with lead 
weight attached, 
for communicat- 
ing up or down ; 
1 nest of tin boxes 
for eggs, carried 
in a bag or creel ; 
field-glasses, dag- 




(specially made 
for me by a blue- 
jacket); water- 
bottle and pro- 
visions ; a hand 
camera, and a set 
of egg-blowing in- 
struments packed 
in a case/' 

To these may 
be added a 28ft. 
rope of pure silk, 
weighing but a 

n ~''^* s ~ a n#7teliY OF MICHIGAN^ —"* '" 

2 26 


capable of supporting two men* This rope 
was given to the Colonel by the late Crown 
Prince Rudolf of Austria, who had used it 
himself whilst chamois-hunting in the Tyrol. 

In the spring of 1878, Colonel Verner left 
Gibraltar with a friend for a nesting expedi- 
tion into the mountainous country north of 
the Ruck. They chanced to visit the nesting- 
place of a griffon vulture in a cliff, which in 
most parts inclined at an angle of about 
seventy degrees. Two- thirds of the entire 
height was as smooth as a wall. " We had 
no ropes. We worked our way through a 
densely wooded ravine to the foot of the 
cliff, and managed to reach a ledge whence 
we could command most of the face of the 
precipice. Here we found it possible to 
sidle, barefooted, along the narrow ledges, 
the strata being more closely defined. 

" Before reaching the ledge where the nest 
lay, I had to let myself down 6ft, Having 
packed the egg, I 
climbed still higher, 
and came across two 
more nests with eggs, 
Great fissures were 
met with now and 
again, and as I was 
creeping round into 
one of these, a gigan- 
tic griffon vulture 
flew out with discon- 
certing suddenness. 
Here I found 
another nest I 
swung round into 
the fissure, but could 
not get back again, 
so I climbed up the 
* chimney * a^d col- 
lected more eggs." 

A few moments 
later the daring 
climber had a ter- 
ribly narrow escape 
from an awTul death. 
He was sidling along 
the narrow ledges as 
we see him in the 
picture {which is 

from a drawing by himself, made immediately 
after the occurrence), when the rock gave way 
under his foot, and he swung out 300ft, above 
the abyss, holding on to the upper ledge 
only with the fingers of one hand! '* As I 
slipped," he said to me, plaintively, " my egg- 
box struck against the rock ; and it was just 
my luck that the most beautifully marked 
egg of the whole lot should be the only 

From a Water-Culour Dm winff by Lieut. -Cat. WWetitfhbff- Verner. 

one that got cracked," And as he spoke, 
the Colonel produced the identical egg for 
my inspection. 

Colonel Verner casts something more than 
doubt on the stories of eagles attacking 
people, *' F have taken eggs from scores of 
eagles 1 nests in lofty crags," he said, "and 
have never once had such an experience. 
Certainly it is a little dangerous when one of 
these huge birds, affrighted, dashes out of a 
cavern, close to one's head, whilst one is 
clinging to the face of a sheer precipice : but 
I have never known an eagle to directly 
attack me." 

At first the gallant officer used to make 
water-colour sketches illustrating the incidents 
of his expeditions ; but the incredulity of 
friends induced him to take up the irre- 
fragable photography* From the popular 
point of view, however, the Colonel's photos. 
arc a little disappointing, in that they show 

no human figure on 
the terrific precipices 
scaled. This is be- 
cause in most of his 
expeditions he was 
attended only by 
native goat - herds ; 
and, of course, he 
could not take a 
photo, of himself in 
the awful places he 
reached. He did 
succeed in getting 
pilot ns. of ragk-s ? 
and vultures' nests 
in situ ; but these 
are impressive only 
when one knows the 
circumstances under 
which they were 
taken. On one occa- 
sion the Colonel was 
gyrating at the end 
of a rope 200ft. from 
the top of the cliff, 
and nearly 400ft. 
from tho bottom. 
He then had to hold 
his camera at leg J S 
in order to get a 


length from the 
photo, of the nest 

Sometimes the camera itself came to grief* 
Finding himself quartered at Dublin two or 
three years ago, Colonel Verner began collect- 
ing the eggs of sea-birds — guillemots, gulls, 
and the like. One day, at I .am bay Island, 
whilst seeking for cormorants' nests, he found 

one ^IK## .#HHHN Sdecting a 



suitable point of view—and the range was 
limited, seeing that he wns dangling half- 
way down a formidable cliff— the Colonel 
was just about to photograph the nest, 
when the buckle of the camera-strap gave 
way, and down fell the little instrument 
150ft. into the boiling surf below. 

u A few minutes later I saw it floating out 
to sea, and, of 
course, I gave it 
up for lost A 
however, who 
accompanied me, 
volunteered to re- 
cover the camera, 
which was now 
200ft or 300ft 
from the shore. 
Forthwith he was 
lowered into the 
sea, and not long 
after he swam 
back with the 
camera in his 
mouth, for all the 
world like a re- 
triever !" 

This camera 
is the one the 
Colonel is hold- 
ing in the portrait 
on the first page. 

The next pho- 
tograph repro- 
duced here shows 
in quite a start- 
ling manner the 
frightful posi- 
tions in which 
cliff- climbers 
quite commonly 
find themselves. 
This daring man 
fa Mr. C. K ear- 
ton, of Elstree, 
Herts, who in 
co I la boration 
with his brother 
(Mr. R, Kearton) 
prepared a 
unique work (it 
was illustrated 
entirely from photographs taken in situ) on 
u British Birds' Nests," which is published 
by Messrs. Cassell and Co. 

I asked Mr. Kearton to describe his 
method of making a descent, and this is 
what he said: "Perhaps it would be better. 


Fyittn a 1'hvt'i. hy Mr. 

first of all, if I said a word or two about 
that photo. In it I am depicted climbing 
down a cliff on the south coast of Ireland, 
I am about 50ft down, and the cliff was 
nearly 300ft above the sea. The photo, 
was taken by a naturalist friend, for whom f 
however, I had to fix up a second camera, 
as he knew nothing about photography. I 

gave him certain 
ins t ructions, 
which were to 
be carried out at 
a given signal 
from me. 

" Before start- 
ing on a cliff- 
climbing expedi- 
tion, 11 pursued 
Mr, Kearton, '* 1 
first procure a 
couple of ropes 
about the thick- 
ness of one's 
thumb, and in 
length from 
200ft, to 300ft. 
Next, a crowbar, 
which I fix firmly 
in the ground 
some distance 
from the edge of 
the cliff. One 
rope (the guide- 
rope) is securely 
tied to this crow- 
bar, and then 
thrown over the 
cliff ; whilst the 
other is passed 
once round the 
bar, and then 
held by the fnan 
who is letting me 
down. Attached 
to the end are 
three loops, 
which are placed 
round my body 
and under my 
legs to prevent 
me from falling 
out With the 
camera slung 
over my back, and the guide-rope in my hand, 
I deliberately walk backwards over the brink 
of the cliff, the rope being controlled by a 
man who unwinds it at given signals. On 
firing mv revolver, the situation of a nest is at 

°^ra^™lrti^* ht of the birds - 

y\K. C. KKAKl 
C. K '< ■ '. n, Eitlret. 




As I am lowered, I carefully dislodge with my 
feet every loose bit of ruck within reach, so 
as to avoid a possible shower of rubble 
and stones {the result of contact with 
the rope) when below. This is vitally 
important. At will, I can sit in the girth 
or sling. As the sound of one's voice 
is lost when at a depth down the cliff 
of about 50ft, another man is stationed at a 
point where I can see him ; and it is through 
his agency that the man at the crowbar 
receives my signals. The nest to be photo- 
graphed may be found on a fairly accessible 
ledge, in which case the manipulation of the 
camera is eonipiratively easy ; but where it is 
built on a projecting stone or small ledge, 
tremendous difficulties have to be overcome. 
In such cases two legs of the camera must 
rest on my body, most conveniently in the 
belt round my waist. Having fixed up the 
apparatus I proceed to focus the object ; this 
is the most difficult task of all, and one which 
may last five minutes or an hour, or even 
longer still, according to circumstances, 
Then it frequently happens that when every- 
thing is ready for the exposure, one of my 
legs will slip or my body sway in an aggra- 
vating manner, so that the nest will have to 
l>e re -foe used, 

11 Where a recess in the cliff is reached in 
descending or ascending by the ropes, one's 
body, being insulated, begins to rotate like a 
goose on a roasting-jack : and the sensation 
of twirling round in mid-air at 
the end of a rope, with the very 
real possibility of a shower of 
dislodged stones from above, 
and— in the event of an accident 
-certain death beneath, is any- 
thing but pleasant. Remember, 
one's life is literally in the hands 
of the man at the crowbar. On 
one occasion, just as I was dis- 
appearing over the cliff, this 
responsible person got joking 
with his companion, the signal 
man, and he let the coil of rope 
slip up to the top of the crow- 
bar, A moment more and it 
would have slid off altogether, 
but a horrified yell from me 
brought the careless fellow to 
some sense of his duty, just in 
time to avoid a catastrophe, 

14 My cliff-climbing in the south 
of Ireland was uncommonly suc- 
cessful ; but on one occasion 
I was victimized by an Irish 
peasant, who — far too anxious to 

please— spoke of a grand rock dove's nest he 
knew of at the bottom of a sheer precipice, 
accessible only by rope, I walked back 
two miles along" the cliffs, and straightway 
prepared for a descent. When about half-way 
down, one of the legs of the camera got fixed 
firmly against the rock, and as I still con- 
tinued to descend, the full weight of my body 
came upon it. Next moment the legs of the 
tripod gave way, and the whole apparatus came 
to pieces, the shutter falling on to the rocks far 
below, To photograph the nest now was, of 
course, quite out of the question. Still I con- 
tinued the descent, if only to get a glimpse 
of it, and to find what remained 
shutter of the shattered camera, 
reached the bottom of the cliff, 
about for the rock - dove's nest* 
There was none there, and I had 

of the 
all my 

trouble for nothing* My informant mentioned 




the non-existent nest solely in order to give 
me a little pleasurable anticipation and 
excitement, 1 ' 

The remainder of the very impressive 
photos, reproduced in this article were taken 
by Mr. Charles Jefferys (and his colleagues), 
of Tenby. This gentleman fortuitously com- 
bines the zeal and energy of a naturalist with 
the peculiar skill of a professional photo- 
grapher. The 
photo, reproduced 
on the preceding 
page was taken 
for Mr. Jefferys by 
Mr. H, Mortimer 
Allen ; and it illus- 
trates admirably 
the dangerous and 
difficult nature of 
this work, or hobby 
— call it what you 
will. Here the egg- 
collector is seen 
taking a raven's 
nest near Fresh- 
water, Pembroke- 
shire. This nest 
was placed in a 
most curious posi- 
tion — not on the 
usual ledge of 
rock, Jjut on a 
blunt point, so to 
speak, which 
sloped abruptly 
away on each side 
of the nest. To 
make it still more 
difficult of access, 
the big point of 
light rock shown 
in the photo, was 
separated from the 
main cliff", render- 
ing it impossible 
to descend straight 
over the nest. The 
photo* also shows 
that the collector 
is making des- 
perate endeavours to transfer the eggs to 
the fishing-creel he carries at his side, 

" One of the most remarkable features of 
Pembrokeshire," says Mr, Jefferys, "is the 
extent of its coast line- Though one of the 
smaller of the Welsh counties, its coast line 
must be fully 100 miles in length, owing to 
the numberless indentations in the form of 
bays and inlets. It will, therefore, be under- 


stood that a rocky coast, so broken up, muht 
offer unusual advantages for obtaining photo- 
graphs of portions of the cliff front* Almost 
everywhere some projecting slope or ledge 
may be gained,, which will reward the climber 
with a view of portions of the face of these 
precipitous limestone cliffs, which are the 
favourite breeding haunts of the raven r 
chough, peregrine, and buzzard— to say nothing 

of the countless 
thousands of guil- 
lemots, razorbills, 
puffins, and gan- 
nets, which yearly 
flock to the coast 
and adjacent 
islands for nest- 


Another of Mr. 
Jefferys' photos, is 
here reproduced. 
This illustrates a 
nesting expedition 
undertaken by Mr. 
C D. Head and 
Mr. Jefferys, The 
nest being sought 
is that of a pere- 
grine falcon j who 
took up her quar- 
ters near Tenby in 
April, 1894. "The 
eggs of this bird," 
explains Mr. 
Jefferys, 4t are 
generally placed in 
some slight hol- 
low, or hole, at the 
back of a broad 
ledge, which is 
often overhung by 
the precipitous 
cliff above. So far 
as my experience 
goes, the peregrine 
never does more 
in the way of nest- 
1 building* than 
merely to scrape a 
slight hollow for 
her eggs. Sometimes, however, this bird makes 
use of disused nests, built by more diligent 
members of the feathered world. I remember 
in March, 1894, we emptied a raven's nest, 
and the following month obtained a set of 
peregrine eggs from the very same nest," 
The nesting site shown in the preceding 
photo, is quite dose to the climber ; it has 
be^.j|^fft- ep^fffiKN"™ by a pair of 

AND C. D. HEAD TAfclHt; A 



peregrines, whn 
return regularly 
year after year. 

Mr, Jefferys and 
his colleagues conduct their cliff-climbing 
in the orthodox way. (t \Ve use ropes of 
the best quality," he tells me; "and given 
a careful , reliable man on top, there is 
really very little danger to the climber— 
always excepting the unexpected descent 
of loose rock and stones." In many of 
the photos, the guide-rope is seen hanging 
below the climber. This rope is mad;* fast 
to a steel bar, driven into the top of the cliff, 
and the climber uses it in ascending and 
descending to take his weight off the 
1 ' bod y - rope, " which is a t ta c h e<l to t h e 
"sling," In this way, only one man is 
needed to attend to the ropes, whilst a 
second is told off to interpret the climber's 

The next photo, shows the taking of a very 
large raven's nest (compare it with the figure) 
which was built on a precipitous cliff at the 
mouth of a tidal river in Carmarthenshire. 
In difficult or dangerous places, Mr* Jefferys 
makes fast to the crowbar the body -rope as 
well as the guide-rope ; and he tells me that 
in Iceland last year he had to use the native 
hide-ropes - - strong enough, but knotted 
and greasy, and therefore unpleasant to 

The taking of a raven's nest at Trevent, 
Pembrokeshire, is shown in the next photo- 
graph, "This nest," says Mr. Jefferys, 
M was placed in a deep hollow, which is seen 
a little below the climber (Mr. C. J). Head). 
The great cliffs at this point are unusually 
steep and lofty, this one in particular project- 
ing sharply from the main line of cliffs, and 


having a raging sea on either side* To reach 
the spot where the rope attendant (myself) 
is seen standing, a narrow saddle-shaped ridge 
of treacherous rock and soil had to be crossed, 




2 3* 

The last photo, reproduced shows Mr, 
Head collecting s ea - b i rds T eggs n en r 
Tenby, Mr. JefFerys and his during com- 
panions have quite as thrilling stories to 
tell respecting their adventures in search 
of the eggs of tree -nesting birds; and 
although this work is not so interesting as the 
el iff climbing, from a pictorial point of view, 
still Colonel Verner, the brothers Kearton f 
and Mr, Jefferys all agree that it is even more 
perilous. Colonel Verner declares that ropes 
are apt to make the cliff-climbers care- 
less (he was once horrified to behold his 
own " half-hitch JJ knots in a new rope 
untwisting in the hot sun) ; but he con- 
siders tree work more difficult and dan- 
gerous, considering how the nest-hunter has 
often to crawl out on long, slippery, and 
perhaps treacherous branches fioft. or 70ft. 
above the ground. 


and this was barely 2ft. 
wide, so that passing over 
it was no pleasant task, 
especially when burdened 
with steel crowbars, ropes, 
and other impedimenta. 
Muring the past two years 
the ravens have removed 
from this spot, and the 
ledges shown in the photo. 
are now in the possession of 
a large colony of cormorants 
during the nesting season,' 1 
u Taking peregrines 1 eggs 
— four of them— near Lin- 
ney Head, Pembrokeshire, 
April, 1896," Such is Mr. 
Jefferys' comment on the 
photo, next shown, " The 
eggs," he goes on to say, 
" were placed as usual on 
a bare patch of soil on a 
broad ledge, and they may 
be seen in the photo, near 
the left foot of the climber 
-Mr. C LX Head." This 
last-named gentleman, 
being the light-weight of 
the party, usually made the 

by Google 






NCE upon a time there was a 
poor man, who lived some- 
where in the middle of the 
woods near a place called 
Gatines de Treigny, Every- 
body called him Father 
Rameau. Not that he had any children— 
he had not even ever been married ; nor 
that he was very old, for he was barely fifty ; 
but he had always had such a hard time of 
it that his hair had grown grey very early, 
and his hark had been bent and bowed long 
before its time. 

He was generally to be seen toiling along 
under a big bundle of brooms, which he 
made with the greatest skill from young birch 
branches selling them on market days to 
the housewives of Sainl-Amand or Saint- 

Father R a mean was not ambitious, far 
from it ; if he had been alone in the world, 
without relations depending on him, he would 
have been quite content to live on black 
bread every day of the week, with an 
occasional glass of wine from th? charitable 
folk of the neighbourhood, But Father 
Rameau had a younger sister married to a 
vine-dresser of Perreuse, and he was god- 

father to their daughter j she was just growing 
up into a woman, and was so pretty and 
modest and intelligent, that everyone had a 
good word for her, and now she was engaged 
to be married to a young man called George, 
a capital worker, but without a penny in the 
world. The wedding was to take place as 
soon as she was twenty ; and they had given 
each other engagement -rings, common leaden 
rings, bought from one of the pedlars who 
visit the hamlets of the district 

Humble as he was where he himself only 
was concerned, Father Rameau was proud 
indeed in matters connected with his niece. 

"A leaden ring," he murmured, "when so 
many other girls, not ha IF as good as my 
god daughter, have a gold one ! How I 
wish Madeleine could choose the one she 
liked best from the jeweller's shop in Saint 
Sauveun Ah, it's not much use wishing. 
If I put by every penny I could spare for 
years and years I could never afford it. 
Madeleine's poor, George is poor, I am poor, 
and always shall be. Well, we're honest, 
that's one comfort, and we needn't be jealous, 
at any rate." 

As the old broomseller was thinking all 
this, he met George, who was driving a pair 




of oxen, their nostrils steaming in the first 
rays of the morning sun. " Goad-day, lad, JJ 
said he. 

"Good-day, Father Ratneau." 

" Off to work already ? " 

"Yes, father. I'm just going over the 
master's fields for the last time before seed 
sowing; we shall begin next week. We're 
rather behindhand, you know." 

"So you are; October's nearly over." 

*' Can you guess what I was thinking of as 
I came along? " 

" What you were thinking of? You mean 
who" said Father Rameau, rather crossly, 

*' Well, yes, you're right Madeleine is 
never out of my mind,' 1 answered George, 
thoughtfully. "I was saying to myself that 
if there are plenty of weeds over there * (and 
he pointed to the uncultivated moor with his 
goad), " there is good soil as well, and that 
anyone who had time torlear even a comer of 
it might buy the girl he was engaged to TI 

11 A gold ring ! " 

" How did you guess what I meant? You 
don't come from Cheneau, where all the 
wizards live," laughed George. 

" No witchcraft in that, nephew. The 
other day I saw how unhappy you were that 
you could only give Madeleine a leaden 

Even at the risk of offending his future 
uncle, the young labourer could not help 

"That's a task for stronger arms than 
yours, father," he said. " No one can beat 
you at cutting birch branches and making 
them into brooms. But that doesn't need 
so much muscle as digging up soil like this, 
pulling up the great roots out of it, or smash- 
ing and carrying away huge boulders of rock. 
Ah, if only F had not given my word to stay 
with my master till I am married ! n 

" You may laugh at me, lad, but I won't 
bear malice, 1 ' said d\e old man. u If the old 
are not so strong as the young, they are more 
persevering. I shall clear a bit of the moor, 
and with the money from my first harvest, 
we will go and buy the ring. Good-bye, 

" Good-bye, father ; we shall see you doing 
wonders before long, I know. 37 

" I shall be working fur Madeleine, 1 ' he 
said, " and your patron saint (George means 
cultivator of the soil) will help me," 

At twelve precisely, Father Rameau came 
back to the moor with a heavy pick on his 
shoulder ; he meant to set to work without 

Bang went the first stroke of the pick, 



ring, and I was just as sorry myself that I 
couldn't buy her a better one * ♦ . and ever 
since IVe been trying to think of a way , , ," 

u And have you found one, father ? 

" You've found it for me, lad I shall make 
a clearing of a bit of the moor." 



accompanied with the significant grunt 
diggers, woodmen, and such folk give over 
their work. I Jut just as he was raising his 
arm for another try, he stood suddenly stock- 
still, with eyes storing wide in a white, 

te"flwNtesiTY OF MICHIGAN 



From the midst of the boulders scattered 
about, which were trembling like Celtic 
monuments, had arisen an apparition, which 
the old man knew was supernatural and 
divine, though its form was human. 

Imagine a tiny little lady, ethereal rather 
than thin, youthfully lovely and dainty, a 
kind of dream beauty, attired in a silvery 
tunic, embroidered with gorse blossoms. On 
her head a wreath of heather ; in her hand a 
wand of the broom plant in blossom ; all 
around the holly, ferns, and junipers, all the 
wild plants and shrubs, were bowing down 
as if in homage to a Sovereign. A ray of 
sunlight was playing round her head like an 
aureole. She was the Fairy of the Moor. 

" You are a bold man," she said to the 
old workman, " to dare thus to encroach on 
my domains." There was a thrill of anger 
in her clear voice, and her blue eyes sparkled. 

" Lady Fairy," stammered the old man, 
" be merciful to a wretched labourer who 
never meant to wrong you. Your domains 
are so vast, I hoped there would be no harm 
if I took the liberty of borrowing just a little 
corner from you." 

" What do you want it for ? " 

"To cultivate it," answered old Rameau, 
who was beginning to feel less frightened. 

11 To cultivate it ! " cried the fairy. " You 
mean to dig it up, turn it over, and upset it 
all round ! Do you not see how lovely it is 
now, and are you so presumptuous as to 
think you can do better for it than Nature 
has done already ? " Her voice grew softer 
as she went on : " What could you find any- 
where that is as beautiful as this spot in 
spring-time, when, under a sky of the tenderest 
blue, the little leaves are beginning to bud on 
the branches, the tufts of narcissus are open- 
ing among the marshes, and everywhere in 
the woods around the blackbirds are 
beginning to whistle their first notes, the 
doves keep up a gentle cooing, and the jays 
are chattering like parrots ? " 

"A couple of partridges calling to each 
other," answered the old man, "a quail 
uttering its three sonorous cries, or a lark 
soaring into the sky with its breathless 
melody, make a pleasanter sound, to my 
way of thinking. But these are birds that 
like to build their nests among the corn. 
They are not found near your kingdom." 

" In summer,*' went on the fairy, " when 
the moors are flooded with sunshine, and 
the heat brings out a delicious odour of 
resin from my favourite shrubs, I love to 
look on the purple of the heather, and the 
gold of gorse and broom." 

" I prefer the pink-clover with the drowsy 
bees humming over it," answered the old 
man, " and the ripening harvest, yellow like 
your beautiful hair, Lady Fairy." 

Fairy as she wa«, the queen of the moors 
was not displeased at the compliment. 
Father Rameau saw this from her face, and 
said to himself his cause was half won. 

" In autumn," she retorted, though, "even 
here, there comes to me out of the depths of 
the thickets near, the baying of the pack 
when the hunt is out, and often they traverse 
my domains to get from one part of the 
forest to another. The poor, hunted stag, 
whose tongue is hanging out of his mouth 
with weariness, makes for this very heap of 
rocks sometimes ; then I help him to elude 
his cruel foes and to get away safely." 

"Yes," said the old man, as if he liked 
this idea, " the dogs get their noses pricked 
on the thorn-bushes and lose trace of their 
prey. That is indeed a kind action. I, too, 
like to put the pack on a wrong scent. The 
stags are such dear things, with their soft 
brown eyes. Those in this neighbourhood 
know me, and when I sit down to make my 
brooms right in the middle of a copse, as I 
do sometimes, they come quite close up to 
me. If only there were wheat growing on 
your moor, you would be able to protect the 
hares, too, for they would then take refuge in 
the shelter of your park." 

" But when you have pulled up my holly 
and junipers, and broom-bushes, how shall I 
be able to make fires for the long winter 
evenings ? I shall die, pierced by the cruel 
breath of the keen north wind, and be buried 
under a shroud of white snow." 

" Oh, gracious fay, if you fear the cold, 
will there not always be the place of honour 
kept for you by our chimney-corner, in the 
little home I mean to build on the moor? 
You will come and get warm whenever you 
like by our fireside. My god-daughter, 
Madeleine, will keep you company, and 
some day, perhaps, I shall entreat you to 
be god-mother to her first baby." 

Thus Father Rameau had his answer ready 
for all her objections. These last words of his 
touched the fairy, and the expression of her 
face became very soft and kind. " I know 
Madeleine well," she said ; " I know how fair 
she is to see, in her snowy white caps. I 
know how her goodness is spoken of far and 
wide ; and I have even heard that she is to 
marry that hard-working lad I saw talking 
with you this morning. They will be a 
charming pair, and their home will be a 
delightful place. And you, dear old man, 





who have no ambition for yourself, but only 
care for your dear ones, you will have your 
reward for your cheerful faith in the future. 
Take up your pick and have courage over your 
digging, I grant you this corner of my domain. 
The rest I am sure you will respect, for you 
are not greedy ; will the others who come 
after you spare it, too ? Alas, when once the 
moor has been cleared all over and cultivated, 
I shall have to die ! But we will only think 
of the happiness of your young folk ; and, 
silence ! not a word of all this to anyone ! " 

And with a finger on her lips, she 

By the end of October Father Rameau 
had dug over> cleared, and prepared two acres 
of ground. All by himself ? With his pick- 
axe and spade? Yes, quite by hin :;elf, and 
with his pickaxe and spade. He had 
worked as if by magic, for ihe fairy, 
always present and always invisible, had 
endowed him with some of her magic power. 
She helped hi in to split the hardest boulders, 
to haul up the most tenacious roots, to collect 
in bundles the old tree-stumps and weeds, 
and every kind of rubbish, and set fire to it, 
and so make the very first dressing the soil 
had ever had on it Will you believe it ? By 
seed-sowing time the ground was ready, and 
was sown with oats which began to grow in 
no time, came well through all the frosts, 
and by the following April was waving 


abroad in a luxuriant mass oF green, A lark 
built its nest in it, and every morning nodded 
its little tufted head at Father Rameau, who 
was watching over its nest, as if out of 
gratitude for what he had done, 

The harvest was splendid, and fetched a 
high price. 

George could no longer smile at Father 
Rameau's old arms, and had to confess he 
had found his master : Father Rameau 
smiled slily when he said, (< After all, nephew, 
we shall have a gold ring for Madeleine," 
But when the time oame for getting it, 
Madeleine would not allow it. u No, father," 
she said> "you have toiled and moiled this 
year at your digging ; buy a plough : anyone 
will lend you a plough-horse for a few dayp, 
and it won't be nearly such hard work for 

So when autumn came again, the old man 
cleared another two acres, and next summer 
his harvest was twice as big— and so were his 

Madeleine still refused the precious ring. 
" Buy a pair of oxen," she said ; " you will 
be independent then of everyone. r 

Next year the old man's field was bigger 
than ever ; and Madeleine advised him to 
use the profit of his harvest for building a 
little house. Her modest, sensible advice 
was acted upon every time, and, in fact, 
when the wedding-day arrived, the gold ring 




had still not been bought, and at the marriage 
ceremony, in the church at Treigny, it was 
over the old leaden rings of their betrothal 
that the cure pronounced his blessing. 4i We 
have given our hearts to each other," said the 
young wife; u what do we want with gold 
rings after that ? What do you think, 
George ? ™ 

" 1 mean to spend the money on a 

cottage, surrounded by a circle of bright 
light, the marvellous godmother, the Fairy of 
the Moor. 

Many tried to follow Father Rameau's 
example and cultivate a portion of the moor ; 
but very few succeeded, because the fairy 
could see into the very bottom of their hearts, 
and would only help the true-hearted, rare 
folk, alas, in this world* There is much left 


christening robe, then," said Father Rameau, 
gaily. " Bless me, things'!! have to be just 
so then, if ever they are ! If you only knew 

what kind of a godmother yi 

But he stopped short just in time, remem- 
bering the fairy's injunction about silence ; 
and Madeleine, whom he had made very 
inquisitive, could not get another word out 
of him. She never found out what he meant 
till her first baby was born, when on the day 
of the christening, there stepped into the 

still to be cleared And she yet lives on, the 
little fairy of the silvery tunic: embroidered 
with gorse blossoms* with her crown of 
heather bells, and her wand a verdant broom 
branch. But if ever you want to see her t 
as old Father Rameau did, you must arrive 
at the Mid-day Rock on the first stroke of 
twelve, and have a conscience perfectly 
clear ; two conditions which seem easy 
enough, and which are really very difficult of 

by Google 

Original from 


[ Wt shall be glad U receive Gontrihnthns (& this section, and to pay fa stuh as are attefit&L] 

It is astonishing to note the number and 
variety of articles and strange things found 
in merchandise by vendors of the same. 
This page is devoted to curiosities of the 
kind. The first photo, was sent in by 
Mr. P, Ehrenfeldt, of j, Brabant Court, 
E.G. I; shows part of the tusk of an 
elephant, in which the head of an assegai, 
or African spear, was found embedded by 
the cutters* This tusk was being cut up 
for knife -handles. It is surmised that the 
spear was thrown at a young elephant, 
and that the head broke off and lodged in 
the hollow part of one of its tusks. Then, 
as the tusk grew, the spear -head was 
pushed farther and farther towards the tip, 
and at length the ivory grew round the 
steel blade itself. 

l>een smoking whilst placing 
the curd in the cheese - press, 
and the pipe must have fallen 
in. Then, unable to find it 
again, he filled the press, with 
the result that nothing more 
was seen of the pipe until it 
was brought to light by the 
retail grocer. It was a shot I , 
dirty pipe with a tin cover on 
the bowl" We know 
pencil inscriptions on eggs 
have led to an offer of marriage ; 
and other things besides pipes 
and revolvers are found in 
rhce^es. Once a brooch was 
found in a Dutch cheese, which 
led to i he identification of a 
long-lost relative. 

i'rotn a Photo. b§ WkiUfavdt^ J'uiifcjr. 


The next two photos, on 
this page were lent us by Mr* 
Frank Irvine, of 62, Stoire 
Street, Paisley. Mr, Irvine 
thinks the revolver was 
deliberately placed in the 
cheese ■ — which wa* made in 
America — either as a piece of 
bra v ad • » or as a temporary 
hiding-place. Bui the pipe ? 
"The pipe,' 1 says our in- 
formant, "undoubtedly found 
its way into the cheese through 
the gross and slovenly care- 
lessness of the maker — an 
Irishman. He had evidently 






This is John Hooper, of Exeter. Orv 

November z6ih, 1874, the La Plata left 

Gravesend with 300 miles of cable, She 

Ftom a Photo, by Scott <* &hm, Kr«f#r. 

Ibundereil three days later, 
and only one l>oat r containing 
fifteen men, managed to gel 
clear away from the wreck. 
BuL there were I wo other sur- 
vivors — Henry Lam on t, boat- 
swain, and John Hooper, 
quartermaster. Being washed 
out of one of the boats, these 
two fought for their lives among 
the wreckage, and then got on 
to an air-raft. The lower part 
of their bodies grew benumbed 
with the icy water, and they 
tried to appease their gnawing 
hunger by chewing a silver 
medal Lamont had on him. 
At lengthy after four days 1 
immersion in the sea tinder a 
bleak Novemlier sky, and 
wholly without food, they were 
picked up by a Dutch schooner* 
Lamont did not survive, bat 
Hooper recovered, after years 
of suffering, and is at this day 
acting as lanternist to lecturers 
at Kseter, 


Here we see a monastery built in the face of an awful 

precipice at Inkerman. This exlraordinary building was 

established in memory of a troop of cavalry, who, during the 

Crimean War, rode right over the precipice in a thick mist. 

The colossal gourd seen in 
llerringfleet Hall, Suffolk, in 

this picture was grown in the garden of John Thomas Leathes, Esq*, of 
1846, the seed being provided by the Horticultural Society. It weighed 
1 96 11 j., and measured 7ft, 3m, in .Qir.qumiire.nj 







This ship, the Keewatin^ was built at Bay City, 
Michigan, for ocean traffic. In the photo, we see 
her being towed down the St. Clair River in two 
sections in order to enable her to pass the locks of 
the canals. The background is Point Edward, 

Ontario. Between the sections of this extraordinary 
vessel may he seen the Grand Trunk Elevator. 
We are indebted for the use of the photo, to 
Mr, W. Beeley, of 1308, Military Street, Port 
Huron, Michigan. 


This is an eminently successful 
radiograph, or X-ray photo. , of the 
hand of a resident of ChorHon- 
cunv Hardy \ it was taken by Mr. W, 
L. Chadwick, of Manchester, with 
an exposure of jmin. It will be 

seen that Mr. P- has two thumbs. 

Similar cases are not unknown, but 
this one is unique in that the super- 
numerary thumb is of very real 

utility to its possessor. Mr. P 

says that he found his additional 
thumb was so useful in handling the 
chisel (he was a stone -carver), that 
he actually regretted bis other hand 
was not similarly provided* 


This hog, the pro- 
perly of a Mr. Charles 
15 ti tier, was killed at 
Kid marsh Farm, near 
Pan^liourne, Berk 5 > on 
the 15th March, 1797. 
It was 2% years old. 
Its measurements were; 
8ft. long, 3ft. 7^in. 
high, and 9ft. in circum- 
ference* The animal 
weighed Si [lb. The 
enormously fat beast 
had to be killed young;, 
because it necessitated 
the presence of an 
attendant night and day 
to keep it on its legs. 
Can the pens of Chicago 
produce anything like 




This interesting znd amusing set of photos, 
was sent in by an African missionary, the 
Rev. H. J. Qu'ilter, of 6, Church Street, Car- 

narvon. The first photo, (taken by the 
elder Miss fjuiheri shows the missionary's 
daughter and a girl friend, who dressed 
themselves up in nigs and ihings, blacked 
their faces, and posed as Zulu chiefs, the one 
holding an African spear and the other a native 
axe. Both girls carry real Zulu shields. The 
second photo, shows Mr. Omltufs you nger daughter, 
dressed in the costume of a Marulingn, one of the 
West African tribes. The conical hat is made of 
native grass, and is worn as a protection against the 
sun and tropical rains. Miss Qui Iter is wearing a 
real native costume of blue and white cloth, dyed with 

indigo grown on the banks 
of the Gambia. In her hands 
she carries a native sword and 
its sheath, which latter is of 
goal's hide. Round the neck 
are wound native charms 
cal led * ' gree ■ gree, ' * su pposed 
to ward off evil from that part 
of the person on which they 
are worn. The next two 
photos, show the fair young 

masquerades free from their 
war-paint and altogether far 
less terrifying. Mr. Qui Iter 
being a missionary, it is only 
natural that his daughters' 
thoughts should turn to savage races j even in 
moments of recreation. At the same lime, the 
ingenuity shown by the masquer adcrs in dressing 
and posing is perfectly obvious when one con- 
siders that the girls were in no way instructed > 
and that, furthermore, in the first photo, ordinary 
rut;- had to 1* used instead of the real native 


p rtnfJ f , Original from 




($g£ pagt 246. ) 

by Google 

Original from 

The Strand Magazine. 

Vol. xiii. 

MARCH, 1897. 

No. 75. 


A Russian Experience. 

By " Knarf Eli v as." 

9 9 

WILL take your Excellency 
for a rouble ! " 

11 A rouble ! Hear him talk. 

I will take the gentleman for 

seventy kopecks. See my 

horse, the swiftest in all 

St Petersburg!" 

" One of noble birth, take me. For forty 
kopecks, anywhere in the town." 

I stood on the steps of the Central Station, 
while drosky drivers quarrelled over me, and 
waited for competition to show me the 
approximately true value of my custom. The 
last bid stood. I turned and looked at the 
bidder of forty kopecks. His brown eyes 
met mine appealingly, and his tremulous lips 
muttered : — 

" For the children, one of noble birth, for 
the tiny younglings — I have had but one 
short fare to day." 

Tender-heartedness and economy formed 
an alliance. I motioned my porter to his 
drosky. The choice being made, the market 
was " beared," and bids of thirty and twenty- 
five kopecks fell like summer rain. But 
curiosity (for his face was strangely 
attractive to me) and tender-heartedness 
formed a dual coalition, and economy was 
routed utterly. Instead of the coarse 
angularities of countenance, the flinty, deep- 
set eyes, and stunted forehead of the ordinary 
Russian peasant, his facial outline was 
classical as a Greek statue ; his brown eyes 
might have been gazing a lifetime at the Bay 
of Naples. His one Tartar trace was the 
blue -black lank hair, which came straight 
back from his forehead, and his brow, 
furrowed with wrinkles, swelled out beneath 
it white and high. 

My regrets ceased abruptly with the arrival 
at the hotel. He received his forty kopecks 
with thanks, but without effusion, and made 
no effort to obtain a M tea " over and above 
his contract. I turned into the doorway, and 
he drove away. 

A day or two after, while the town was 

Vol. *iii.-31. 

new to me, and my daily routine of sight- 
seeing a thing still to be reckoned with, he 
passed the hotel as I sauntered out. I had 
meant walking, but a sudden impulse made 
me hail him. He recognised me with a faint 
smile as he turned in to the curb, and I con- 
tracted with him for a course to include 
several of the de rigueur objects of interest. 
Our bargain was necessarily prefaced by a 
haggle, or it couldn't have taken place in 
Russia, but even with my short experience 
of the Czar's dominions, I couldn't help 
noticing the apathetic nature of his chafferings 
and the quickness with which he met my 
terms, compared with the ferocious and saint- 
invoking orations of his brother Jehus under 
similar circumstances. That day's drive was 
the precursor of many, and for the next fort- 
night I saw him frequently. He drove me 
dutifully to see all that the Guide Book 
formulates as St. Petersburg, and early dis- 
covering that I desired to get an insight into 
the back-street life of Russia, took me into 
many a quaint nook and corner, where old- 
world customs and sights were strangely at 
variance with this most modern of Tartar 

As the days of our foregathering lengthened, 
we got to know a little of one another. I let 
him find out that the object of my stay was 
the acquirement of colloquial Russian. 

" But the Excellency already speaks quite 
understandably. What need of more ? " 

" I wish to know your language so that I 
can understand the meanest soldier in the 
White Czar's army, if he speaks in a whisper." 

41 Why do you speak of soldiers, one of 
noble birth ? You have had dealings with no 
soldier here yet. God send you never may." 

He was leaning back from his driving seat 
towards me, and as he spoke, a savage gleam 
of his white teeth made him almost snarl, 
and the pupils of his eyes flamed into two 
needle-points of fire. The flash of passion 
on that ordinarily apathetic face interested 
me. I pursued the subject, 




11 1 serve in the army of "the Empress- 
Queen of Britain, and as surely as the sun 
shines, shall her sol dim and your Emperors 
meet some day, not far off, to do battle for 
the East, even as five years ago they battled 
in the South," I answered, for the Crimea 
was then a thing of yesterday* 

" And you really wish to learn Russian to 
help your fighting against the Czar? " 

He spoke eagerly, and at first I thought 
my bluntness of speech would land me in 
the nearest police post, I proceeded to 
gloss the subject down a little. I explained 
that the acquirement of Russian meant 
increase of pay in our army, that long leave 
was given to study it, and that if one satis- 
factorily passed the examination therein, one 
was a marked man, and so on and so forth ; 
in fact, I staggeringly insinuated that thereby 
a better understanding 
was to be attained be- 
tween our two nations, 
and so any idea of war 
obviated, etc, but he 
cut me short by sud- 
denly whipping up, and 
spoke no further word 
during our drive. 

When I stepped out 
at the hotel, and ten- 
dered his fare, he seized 
my hand and kissed it, 
and thrust it from him, 
muttering : — 

" I take no money 
from a brother," and 
drove off then and 

I was too much sur- 
prised at the time to 
stop him T but next day 
he turned up as usual, 
and I insisted on his 
receiving his due. 
He took it quietly, 
apologized if he had 

offended the Excellency, and made no further 
mention of the incident. It was about this 
time, when I had been nearly a fortnight in 
the town, that the amount of my weekly bills 
reminded me acutely that I couldn't afford 
to live for ever at the Hotel de France. 
Clearly lodgings must be found, and cheap 
ones withal. Orenovitch (as I had discovered 
his name to be) might here be of use, and in 
fact was the only person in St, Petersburg I 
could consult. When I laid the case before 
him, he was silent for a while, and finally :— 

II One of noble birth^ there is an empty 


room at 'my little house ; it is clean. The 
old woman who looks after my three young- 
lings would see to your Excellency's coffee 
in the morning, if you could dine out. It 
would be gratifying to help you with your 
language study in the evenings, if I can be of 
any use." 

The prospect sounded alluring, as far as 
learning Russian went, and I had got to like 
him well. We thereupon drove round to 
his dwelling- The house was strangely akin 
to the man. Small and whitewashed, in a 
retired street, it seemed to be hustled and 
shoved out of sight by the larger edifices on 
each side* The room was certainly clean, 
but very small> and the partition from the 
next of the slightest nature. However, I 
could but leave it if I didn't like it, and the 
long and the short of it was, I came for a 
week on trial The children 
were three, all delicate- loo king 
lutle girls, with shy, distant 
manners. Their want 
of resemblance to 
Orenovitch puzzled me 
at first, but old Mother 
Barankin, who came 
daily to superintend 
the menage^Qon solved 
the mystery, 

"But, Excellency, 
they are grandchildren, 
do you not know ? 
Daughters of Madame 
Berceslas, who died 
last year. God pity 
him ! she was his only 
child. His wife died 
these twenty years 
back, and she was all 
in all to him. Berceslas 
was mixed up with the 
evil men who do not 
love our good Czar, 
and he was taken by 
the police and sent to 
Siberia. He brought it on himself* Madame 
Berceslas went with him to the frontier, and 
when he was taken on, she just sickened and 
died within two or three days. They say her 
heart was broken, but she was always weakly, 
and Berceslas deserved what he got." 

Evidently Mother Barankin was of the 
good old school, to whom the Emperor was 
as God, and the existing order of things a 
Heaven - directed institution. This little 
history, however, threw a certain amount of 
light on Orenovitch's outburst of a day or 
two before. 





We began our studies that evening; I 
arranged that I was to read for an hour, and 
he was to correct my pronunciation, and then 
we were to talk for an hour more on any 
subject that might turn up. I also insisted 
on his taking pay at the rate of a rouble per 
diem for his trouble. For a week or two 
this arrangement went on swimmingly, and I 
began to make good progress. Our talks at 
first were somewhat Ollendorfian, consisting 
merely of queries on my part, as to various 
objects, customs, and institutions, and 
descriptive replies from Orenovitch ; but, as 
I grew more fluent, the conversation veered 
to more abstract subjects, among others, to 
religious beliefs. He was, I soon found, an 
Agnostic, though able, from an outside point 
of view, to give a good account of the doctrine 
and ritual of the National Church. During 
our talk I had suggested that some form of 
belief in a higher power and influence than 
the mere march of fate and natural evolution 
was a necessity of human nature. His reply 
was a startling indication of the despair that 
must have been eating away his soul., 

" Excellency, would any almighty Good 
allow this world of ours to wallow in the reek 
of misery that it does ? " 

Of course, the natural answer was that our 
sorrows were the results of our own indiscre- 
tions, etc., but he quickly stopped me with 
his next remark. 

" If one whose life was gentle, loving, un- 
selfish, who had never wronged a soul, finds 
a fate worse than any described in that Hell 
of yours, is that a meet reward ? Is that the 
justice of your Almighty? If so, how do 
you reconcile such a doctrine with the 
teaching of Scripture?" 

His whole frame quivered with passion, 
and I said no "more, but my curiosity was 
whetted again, and I determined to get to 
the bottom of his sorrow and his hate. 

A night or two after, I began, haltingly, 
to describe to him our own Constitution and 
political system. He listened with interest, 
though he made no remark of any moment, 
but a great sigh burst from him as I finished 

" Ah, one could do more than exist in 
that land," he said, wearily, and spoke no 

Having made a beginning, after a night or 
two I ventured to speak of his own country 
and laws, and praised the reported liberal 
views of the new Emperor, who was expected 
to do so much for the enfranchisement of 
the people. The expression of bitter loathing 
I had seen before crossed his face again, but 

his voice quivered more with utter contempt 
than anger. 

" I have seen three Czars mount the 
throne. Three times have the same lies been 
spread abroad. Liberty and the new 
Emperor were to walk hand in hand. All 
was to be peace and happiness. Well, you 
know the story of King Solomon and the 
whips, and Rehoboam and the scorpions ? 
You smile to hear an Agnostic quote the 
Bible. Excellency, two years ago I had faith, 
religion, patriotism, and loyalty. But one 
day my loyalty was killed by torture, and my 
faith died of a broken heart. I will tell you 
shortly what the world knows about me. 

" When my wife died twenty-five years ago, 
she left me my one consolation, my little one, 
my five-year-old daughter. Excellency, we 
were all the world to each other, and we were 
happy. Our lives were uneventful, but peace- 
ful as a summer morning. Well, that went 
on till Marie was nineteen. Then at a 
neighbour's house the usual thing happened. 
She met her fate. He came to me honourably 
enough, as soon as he felt he had any right, 
and I could not make my darling unhappy, 
so I gave consent to their marriage, though 
it wrenched my heart sadly to think of the 
light of my eyes being no longer with rne. 
Still, Marie contrived to see me every day, 
and they lived near, so I soon began to lose 
the sense of blank loss that came over me at 
first, and for six or seven years we went on 
almost as before. Berceslas, her husband, 
was a good husband and father, and steady 
enough to his business, but must needs mix 
himself up with the revolutionary party, and 
often spent his evenings at Nihilistic meetings, 
plotting the overthrow of the Government. * 
The pitcher went once too often to the well. 

" One night he didn't come back, but 
before morning the police burst into the 
house, and ransacked the whole building; 
then we learnt that Berceslas and ten others 
had been arrested, and were even now before 
the Commission. Punishment follows swift 
on crime or suspicion in our land, Excellency. 
Before the week was out, he was walking the 
weary road to Siberia, and Marie, distraught 
and anguish-stricken, followed him. I could 
not let her go alone. I had a little saved, 
and together we passed the weary days of 
rail, boat, and road, with the convict train, 
till we reached the ' Stone of Farewell.' There 
they said their last good-bye, and there, the 
neighbours will tell you, my daughter, broken- 
hearted, drooped and died. If it were so, I 
might yet believe in a Providence. You are 
an honest man. Excellency — you have been 




kind to the little ones, and my heart goes out 
to you — I will tell you what I have told no 
man yet. Then judge between me and your 
God, if He exist 

" The officer at the guard-house there saw 
Marie, and* 
as she was, 
her beauty 


4l *The lady needs consolation, it appears,' 
he said, with a coarse laugh, £ let me offer it, 
and refreshment therewith/ 

(l Marie shrank from him as from a loath- 
some reptile, and I answered, quietly and 
respectfully, that we wished for nothing but 
leave to return as we had come* I was 
burning with rage at his insolently smiling 
glance, and could have killed him with my 
hands, but I knew how utterly we were in his 
power, and restrained myself. 

" * Nay/ he replied, * I here represent His 
Majesty, and it would be a grievous derelic- 
tion of duty to allow his hospitility to be 
churlishly refused Bring the lady in.' 

"We still hung back, and two of his 
soldiers advanced, and laid hands on Marie. 

Digitized by LiQOgK* 

When I saw my darling in their coarse grasp, 
the rage that had been swelling in me all 
those weary weeks of travel burst its bounds, 
I leapt upon them like a madman. I bore 
them both to the ground, and had my hands 
at their throats, but the rest 
of the guard rushed out and 
overpowered me, and one, 
more cowardly than his 
fellows, swung his boot 
against my head and stunned 
me. When I recovered con- 
sciousness an hour later, 
Marie had disappeared, the 
guard had been changed, 
and the lieutenant professed 
to know nothing of his pre- 
decessor's whereabouts. I 
implored, wept, grovelled at 
his feet, till my importuni- 
ties, which at first amused 
him, began to annoy him, 
and he swore at me and told 
the sergeant to throw me out. 
" I won't weary you, 
Excellency, with the story 
of those weeks of anguish, 
while I searched, and un- 
availing!)', for my daughter. 
East of Orenburg there is no 
law but the will of official- 
dom, and against what an 
officer did, there was no appeal. Suffice it to 
say that, after six months of brutal insult and 
infamy, he tired of her, and I found her 
forsaken, penniless, and sick unto death, in 
a low lodging in Kazan. She died in my 
arms three weeks later, swearing me by all 
that I held sacred (little enough then, Excel- 
lency, save an honourable revenge), never to 
let her husband know of her fate, and, gentle 
as ever, asking me to forgive my own wrongs 
and hers. Her tyrant had been transferred 
to the frontier for some disgrace in the 
capital, but had served his time in the East, 
and was now back in the Imperial Guard. 
I buried her in Kazan, and with my heart 
like molten steel in my breast, turned home- 
wards. When I met those little ones, left 
all those months to Mother Barankin's care, 
and I knew them orphans, the tears which 
had been burnt up before came to my relief. 
I wept long and without restraint over those 
innocent little souls, too young to know their 
loss, and then, in the calm that followed 
my tears, I swore, by myself and by my 
honour, that ere I died my enemy should be 
done to death by mine own hand. 

" He lives yet Excellency ; he is the 




friend and intimate of the young Czar, and 
he is of a powerful house. Little wonder 
that the petition I made to His Majesty, and 
the story of my wrong which I sent to his 
Minister, were torn up before my eyes by the 
head police official of my district, who bade 
me, with curses, be silent, lest a worse thing 
come upon me. Aye, he lives, but I know, 
Excellency, that my time and his are coming. 
I have seen him twice these last six months ; 
but if I fell on him openly, what could I do to 
be certain of his death ? — and, success or no 
success, it would be utter destitution to my 
little ones. When it comes, my revenge, it 
will be suddenly out of the darkness, when 
his life is sweet within him, and none but he 
shall know who struck the blow." 

He never spoke again of his sorrow, or 
referred to the subject distantly, but I 
noticed his eye kindled whenever I showed 
any kindness to his grandchildren, and the 
earnestness which he applied to my studies 
showed me that he felt and appreciated my 
silent sympathy. That was a very quiet 
winter, and a very happy one, I spent in St. 
Petersburg, and till April nothing occurred to 
turn my mind from its routine of study. 

About the middle of the month, I was 
thinking of taking a little tour in the 
provinces, and mentioned the fact to 
Orenovitch. I was astonished to see some- 
thing like a look of rfelief cross his face, 
when I mentioned that I thought of being 
away for ten days or so shortly, and he 
eagerly joined in the discussion of my plans. 
However, an attack of influenza put an end 
to my ideas of travel for weeks, and for 
many days I was confined to the house. It 
was then that I noticed a peculiarity of 
Orenovitch. About eight o'clock, the hour 
when I was usually dining, he generally 
retired to his room, which adjoined mine, and 
thin as the partition was, I couldn't help 
noticing the invariable clink of glass and 
metal which issued therefrom after these 
disappearances. One night I jokingly asked 
him if he was a glazier or ironmonger in 
addition to being a drosky driver. He 
answered, coldly : — 

" Neither, Excellency ; I have but one 
business, and that I can attend to without 

I felt thoroughly snubbed, but naturally 
my curiosity was the more aroused. A night 
or two afterwards an unaccustomed sound 
startled me. It was like the buzzing blast of 
a pair of bellows, only with longer but more 
irregular beats. I stole quietly from my sofa, 
to where I had noticed a loose knot in the 

wooden partition, and, as I suspected, it came 
out in my hand without noise. I hesitated a 
moment before spying thus on my host, but 
curiosity was too much for me, and I stooped 
and looked. I nearly betrayed myself by the 
start of surprise that I gave. Orenovitch 
was using a blow-pipe, and evidently making 
or repairing a glass dipping tube. One end 
of the room was fitted up like the bench of 
a chemical laboratory. Jars and glass bottles 
were arranged methodically upon it, and near 
it on a stand was a small still. The window 
was shuttered and barricaded, and there 
was no doubt Orenovitch did not court 
interruption or inspection of his actions. As 
I watched, he finished making the tube and 
cooled it gradually. Then he dipped it slowly 
into a jar of a yellow liquid at his side, and 
with much care and precaution dropped drop 
after drop into a glass receptacle already 
apparently half full of water. I stole back to 
my sofa and tried to reason matters out to 
myself. Orenovitch a secret distiller ! It 
seemed impossible, or at any rate highly 
improbable. Vodki, the national drink, was 
cheap enough, in all conscience, and the 
profits must be incommensurate with the 
risk. However, the facts were there, and 
there was no other apparent solution. A 
night or two after the mysterious sounds 
stopped, and the affair, though I sometimes 
puzzled my brains over it, soon ceased to 
interest me much. 

My attack of influenza was short though 
sharp, and soon passed away, though it left 
its effects in a phase of insomnia, which gave 
me weary nights of tossing, for the next ten 
days. During one of these periods of semi- 
martyrdom, about midnight, my attention 
was attracted by the recurrence of the same 
tinkling of metal in the next room, which 
generally took place much earlier in the 
evening. Again I stole to the knot-hole, and 
again I spied upon my landlord. Little did 
I then know that that simple act of curiosity 
was to have its influence upon the destinies 
of the greatest of European States. 

Orenovitch was there, clad in his out-of- 
door costume : he was rummaging among his 
chemicals. Finally, he selected a small box 
or two, and turned towards the jar that I had 
noticed at my first espial. A look of savage 
exultation was on his face, and his eyes were 
flaming to two diamond points, as they did 
that day when I first surprised him into 
passion. He lifted it, attached it to his belt, 
fastened his rough driving coat over it, and 
left the room. Expecting a restless night, I 
had flung myself oti the sofa without troubling 






to undress. When 
I heard the shoot- 
ing of the door- 
bolt, and the steps 
of Orenovitch out- 
side the house 
speeding down the 
street, the impulse 
to follow him and 
learn his quest was 
too strong to be 
resisted I hastily 
donned my furs, 
stole noiselessly 
downstairs, and 
followed hini out. 

He was at the 
corner of the street 
as I left the house 
and turned to the 
right. I kept my 
distance, and after 
a quarter of an 
hour's smart walk- 
ing through the 
suburbs, we struck 
the main road to 
ChatsL Up this 
he swung along at 
a pace that, in my weak state, took mc all 
my time to maintain. I had on my snow- 
boots and kept in the shadow, so felt no 
fear of detection ; but so clear and still was 
the frosty night, that I could hear his mutter- 
iugs though full a hundred yards away. For 
an hour and a half we strode on, pursuer 
and unsuspecting pursued, till we reached the 
well-known bridge of Myschkin. Here Oreno- 
vitch stayed, and, leaning over, looked list- 
lessly, as it seemed, at the water. I took 
advantage of his abstraction to steal quietly 
into the black shadow of the parapet. I was 
congratulating myself on my safe seclusion, 
and about to peep o% K er to observe further my 
landlord's actions, when a grip of iron seized 
me from behind, and a voice, that rasped 
with hate, hissed into my ear ; — 

" k Brute ! Viper of a spy ! Did you think 
I saw you not ? Fool ! Dog ! You fooled 
me once when I told my story to an English 
gentleman, as I thought ; but for days I have 
suspected, and now I know that you are a 
crawling worm of a police spy. Well, you 
shall know all you want to know to-night, but 
I question tf you will ever tell it to your 

With a strength that my disease-weakened 
muscles were no match for, he tied my hands 
firmly with his neckcloth, and wrenching off 


the handle of his 
clasp-knife, forced 
it into my mouth, 
and effectually 
gagged me. This 
was the work of 
moments, and he 
made no more of 
my despairing 
struggles than a 
nurse of the kick- 
ings of an obstre- 
perous infant. My 
Clod ! What an 
idiot I felt This 
was the end of my 
morbid curiosity. 
In the power of a 
ferocious and re- 
vengeful maniac 
(for maniac, with- 
out a doubt, he 
now was) alone, 
without a chance 
of succour in that 
deserted spot, 
speechless, unable 
to implore his pity, 
disillusion him of 
his suspicions, or shout for aid- 

He dragged me out of the shadow, and 
taking off his overcoat, tied the arms round 
my legs, thus .making me utterly powerless. 
Then he leant me like a log against the 
balustrade, and deliberately spat in my face. 
I thought he would follow his insult by a 
blow, and in fact he raised his hand, but 
muttering : u I have no time to waste on 
such swine," he turned from me and began 
to busy himself with the jar which he had 
attached to his waist, Selecting the smoothest 
part of the thoroughfare, he cautiously drew 
the cork, and slowly, with immense care, 
poured the liquid on the ground. Then he 
took one of his little boxes from his pocket, 
and I had not much trouble in recognising 
the contents as percussion caps. Still taking 
infinite precaution, he dotted these about 
among the yellow puddle that he had formed. 
While doing this he frequently turned to 
listen, as if he were expecting someone or 
something from the direction of the city, but 
strain my ears as I would, no sound broke 
the stillness. 

When he had finished, he came back to 
me, and a glare of the most fiendish cMiltci- 
tion lit up his features. 

" The next few minutes, my friend, shall 
be spent in giving you a slight sketch of 






what, in half an hour, will have become 
national history. When I believed you to 
be what you seemed, not what you are'* — 
and, his passion overmastering him, he raised 
his hand and struck me full in the face — u l 
let you into the secret of the one desire of 
my life. No doubt you thought my tale the 
melodramatic va pourings of a peasant, who 
perhaps had been whipped a little too far 
and would be safer in Siberia when his 
possible sources of information had been 
drained dry. If time permits me— and I 
think I have still ten minutes at your service — 
I will give you every detail of my designs. 

" First ■ let me inform you that I only 
discovered your true character about ten 
days ago. My good neighbour, Minska, who 
lives opposite, and belongs, as you possibly 
have been made aware, to the same revolu- 
tionary group as myself, informed me the 
other morning, that you were spying upon 
me through the partition that divides our two 
rooms. Let me condole with you upon the 
want of forethought which allowed you to do 
this with a light in your room. On the other 
hand, let me congratulate you on your acting. 
Till that moment, I had no suspicion but 

Vol* xiil -32. 

that you were what you repre- 
sented yourself to be* How- 
ever, time does not permit us to 
stand and bandy compliments, 
I have now something to com- 
municate which you do not yet 
know, and will, I venture to say, 
be interested in, 

" I belong to the Red Centre 
— that may possibly be news 
to you, or possibly it may not. 
The piece of information which 
will really be of moment is 
that the Czar* with a small 
private escort, will be upon this 
bridge in twenty minutes, I 
say advisedly upon it, because, 
my friend, he will never cross 
it. The liquid there, the 
manufacture of which you so 
kindly assisted, in part, to 
superintend, is nitro-glycerine. 
You will have observed that I 
have placed percussion caps 
among it. It will take less 
than the intelligence of a police 
spy to understand that if a 
wheel or hoof falls upon one of 
these caps, this bridge will 
cease somewhat suddenly to 
exist. The means by which 
my committee discovered His 
Majesty's frequent visits in this direction, I 
will not trouble you with. Nor will I insult 
your intelligence by explaining their object 
I will merely remark that Mademoiselle 
Nevskoi lives temporarily at Drizin " (a 
small village about five miles down the 
road), "and our good Czar has no limits to 
his admiration of beauty, I have no doubt 
his feelings are strictly Platonic. 

" Unfortunately, this very evening is the one 
my committee have decided to remove him 
from among the living. How pitiful it is 
that true love ever goes awry ! For special 
reasons I requested the Centre on this 
occasion to waive the usual ballot, and to 
allow me to be their sole agent, This 
favour was, after some demur, granted me, 
I was actuated in this by no special lust for 
slaughter, and, under ordinary circumstances, 
I should have taken my chance in the usual 
course. The captain of the small escort is, 
however, no stranger to me. I detailed 
you a short episode in his life and mine, 
some months ago. He would have had to 
perish in any ease with his master ; I could 
not have borne that he should die by any 
hand but WfifflS 1 a anS 1 IT {o-night " — here his 

2 SO 


voice died away into indistinct mutterings, 
and for two or three minutes I could not 
understand his jerky, low- voiced sentences. 
He soon awoke to the situation, Advancing 
towards me, ho bowed in mockery, and 
then said : — 

* l I am keeping the Excellency waiting — he 
has Already worked over hours — I will no 
longer detain him. It is not met* that a 
common police spy should share the fate of 
an Emperor, so i will wish you ban voyage? 

He quickly took the overcoat from around 
my limbs, and after a futile and very short 
struggle on my part, thrust me over the 
parapet into the river. Shall I ever forget 

the shock of that fearful 

plunge into those icy waters? 

The events of the previous 

few minutes had numbed 

me into a sort of coma, 

and I had only thought of what was passing 

round me as a hideous nightmare, from 

which I should shortly wake. As those 

black, freezing floods closed over my head, 

I for the first time realised my position, and 

the imminence of death. 

Thank God, 1 did not utterly lose my self- 
possession, and as I rose to the surface after 
thai awful plunge into midnight darkness, 
1 felt there was yet a chance for life- At 
Harrow 1 had been a " duckling," and swim- 

ming without my hands for a short distance 
was therefore by no means an impossible feat 
Bound though I was, I managed to jerk my 
head above the water-line for a second or 
two, to survey my whereabouts, and in the 
blackness I was able to discern that a 
hundred yards or so below me, the river took 
a bend, and the left shore ran out into the 
stream some forty feet or more. If I could 
only, by swimming on my back, and striking 
out with all my might, reach this friendly 
peninsula, I should have a reasonable chance 
of safety, as I did not believe that Orenovitch, 
occupied with his approaching revenge, would 
be on the look-out for my escape, or imagine 
it possible. 

With the energy of despair* I 
used my every effort, but the 
current was strong above my 
expectations I began to lose 
strength and make short and 
flurried strokes, I was passing 
the promontory* when suddenly 
it seemed to rush out towards 
me, and I grated on the pebbly 
hank, I had been caught in a 
back eddy and drawn in to the 
shore. With my fettered hands 
it was no easy task to 
drag myself up the 
L^^ pebbles and gain the 

field above me. At 
first 1 lay utterly ex- 
hausted by my efforts, 
but as I regained my 
bodily vigour, the 
remembrance of the 
fearful peril several 
human lives were in 
on the bridge, not two 
hundred yards away, 
came vividly back to 
rn y m ind. I staggered 
to my feet* and the 
grating of the flints 
put another idea into 
my head. m Stooping 
down, I felt with 
difficulty among the pebbles for one with a 
sharp edge, I was soon successful One 
huge, chisel-like flint lay on the top of the 
river bank. Pressing the twisted neckcloth 
which tied my hands upon its sharpest point 
I rasped it up and down with all the energy 
left to me, A couple of minute* 1 hard work 
and it fell from my wrists, and 1 was free. 

Evidently the maniac on the bridge, 
engrossed in the thoughts of hb coming 
revenge, fijgtfiiqiwl fotesned me. As fast as 


HK THKtST »t 1 lit. L.\kUIT 




my shivering limbs would carry me, I crept 
across the crisp, frozen grass, and gained the 
road. In the stillness of the winter midnight, 
I could hear clearly the approach of several 
horsemen, and the rumbling of not far- 
distant wheels, I was not, then, too late + 
As noiselessly as I could , I ran in the direc- 
tion of the approaching cavalcade. An 
indefinable impulse of dread made me turn 
and glance over my shoulder ere 1 had gone 
a staggering fifty yards. Not thirty yards 
behind, Orenovitch was following, silently 
as a sleuth-hound, his lace ablaze with 
frenzied passion, gaining upon me at every 
si ride, Evidently the clatter of my foot- 
steps on the rough road flints had reached 
his ears, and, weaponless as I knew him to 
be, I could be no match for his maniacal 
strength. He would crush or choke me to 
death ? as a terrier kills a rat. The black 
dread of that awful man rushing upon me 
from the dark shadow of the bridge utterly 
broke down any strength that was left in my 
weakened nerves, I shrieked aloud in the 
extremity of terror, and fled down the road 
with the speed of utter despair. My cry was 


heard, and two of the riders came dashing up 
at a hand gallop, and I fell in a convulsed 
heap at their horses' feet, as my pursuer, with 
a snarl of scarcely human rage, turned and 
sped back as he had come. 

One of the horsemen, a man wearing the 
rich uniform of the Imperial Guard, leapt 
off his charger, and, with a rough oath, 

asked what in the name of Heaven I had 
been screeching for. So utterly unstrung 
was I, that at first a confused babble of a 
nameless terror, and the pointing of a 
trembling hand towards the bridge, was all 
the answer I could give. My mouth was 
parched and dry, and every word of Russian 
seemed to have been clean wiped from my 
memory. At this moment, the carriage and 
the remaining horsemen swept up to us and 
stopped, and the officer, with an impatient 
gesture, turned from me as a voice from the 
window addressed him + 

" What is the matter, Count?" 
" I cant find out, your Majesty/ 5 he replied. 
" This man, who appears to be a foreigner, 
as well as a more than ordinary fool, is 
evidently terror-struck by something upon 
the bridge, and with your good leave, I think 
the shortest way will be for me to ride 
forward, and see if it is anything more than 
his own shadow," 

He leaped upon his horse, and as I realized 
his fate, should he carry out his intentions, I 
scrambled to my feet, and screamed to him 
to stop. He paid no attention, but cantered 
after the receding figure of Orenovitch, I 
ran afttT him, shrieking, imploring, but with- 
out avail A few moments, and pursuer and 
pursued reached the* bridge almost together. 

I heard a stern 
command to 
halt, and Oreno- 
vitch turned 
and faced his 
enemy with an 
exultant cry. 
->,.. There was a ring 
of steel, as the 
Count's sword 
left the scab- 
bard, and I saw 
his spurs strike 
deep into his 
charger's flanks. 
The horse 
leaped forward. 
The next 
moment a spu- 
ming wave of 
flame, as of all 
hell -fire let loose, enveloped the bridge, and 
amid the ear-splitting roar that accompanied 
it, I was flung senseless to the earth. 

When I recovered my senses, I found 
myself lying on the roadside, in the centre 
of a group of soldiers, and standing opposite 
to me the tall, soldierly figure of him whom, 
from photographs. I knew to be the Autocrat 




of All the Russian He spoke to me in a 

calm and dignified voice, and as my halting 

phraseology told of my foreign birth, inquired 

my nationality. 1 told him, and thenceforth 

he spoke to trie in my own tongue. A few 

minutes' rapid 


and he knew the 

whole story, and 

my connection 

with it, 

" I have to 
thank you for 
my life, sir, it 
seems, v he said, 
in conclusion. 
" You may yet 
find me not un 
grateful. IF your 
late landlord's 
story be true— 
and I fear there 
is little cause to 
doubt it — I can 
hardly regret the 
death of Count 
Prazinsky, His 
end was frightful, 
but mercifully 
swift^ and he was 
no worthy ser- 
vant to be about 
my person, I 
must request 
your word of 
honour not to 
speak of this 
night's business 
to a soul, at any 
rate during my 
lifetime, and I think you will find it to your 
advantage to oblige me" 

I couldn't help wondering how the dis- 
appearance of the bridge was to be accounted 
for, but I had little experience of the ways 
of a country where the Press censorship 
is among the first of national institutions. 
The Official Messenger , the following day, 
announced the destruction of the well-known 
bridge of Myschkin, from a sudden flood- 
wave, and the other papers merely copied the 
bare announcement, without remark. 

His Majesty did me the honour to convey 
me back to the city, and on our arrival, his 
secretary t M. Hovski, accompanied me to 
the Hgtel de France, where, he informed me, 


I should consider myself the guest of his 
master. With his escort the proprietor ex- 
pressed no surprise at my arrival at such 
untimely hours, and hastened to attend 
upon me with incurious consideration. M, 

Hovski visited 
me the following 
day, and took 
me back to the 
Palace, where I 
had the honour 
of a private audi- 
ence with the 
Emperor I was 
able to give him 
the details of 
what I knew of 
Orenovitch, and 
ventured to 
plead for the 
little orphaned 
children. He 
was good enough 
to promise them 
his patronage, 
and I was after- 
wards relieved 
to hear that they 
had been re- 
ceived into a 
Home for Girls 
in which the 
Empress took a 
special interest. 
The views of the 
neighbours upon 
the subject of 
Orenov itch's dis- 
appearance were 
varied, but the 
commonest was T that I had made away 
with him, but had a mysterious influence 
with the police, which caused them to hush 
the matter up. This influence was, I am 
sorry to say, ascribed to English gold. 

After Lhe shock of that night's experience, 
I did not care to prolong my Russian visit. 
Within a week I was back in England again. 
I was surprised shortly afterwards, on apply- 
ing for a staff appointment, to obtain it 
without difficulty, A private note from the 
Horse Guards, which informed me of my 
success, also apprised me of my elevation 
to the rank of captain, for " important 
services rendered outside Her Majesty's 

by Google 

Original from 

Illustrated Interviews. 


DROVE up one fine morning 
lately to Mr, and Mrs. Tree's 
house in Sloan e Street in the 
hope of finding my victims 
at breakfast, for I had been 
told that they were the earliest 
of birds, and that I should have no hope of 
catching them unless I startled them in their 
nest before ten o'clock* Big Bun had just 
struck the hour, so I was a moment too late* 
A hansom stood at the door, and there emerged 
Mrs. Tree herself, dressed, as she always is, 
in the most fascinating attire — this time all 
black lace over white, with roses in her 
toque and carnations at her waist. A very 
tall girl of eleven tripped at her side* I 
peeped under her Panama hat, and there 
glanced up at me from its shady depths a 
pair of long brown eyes, very serious and 
childish in expression* As she glanced, she 
twisted a strand of her red-yellow hair round 
her finger, execu- 
ting the while a 
pas seul very 
gravely upon the 
doorstep. Her 
frock, I noticed, 
was of some ac- 
cordion-pleat ed 

l * Make haste, 
Viola," urged 
Mrs- Tree; "or 
you will be late 
for Mrs. Words- 
worth* 15 

The child 
vanished with 
her governess, 
still footing as 
she went the 
most Highland of 
Highland flings, 
with the same 

M She dances 
in her dreams, JJ 
murmured Mrs. 

Tree, as she watched her little daughter 
disappear. Then turning to me, vaguely . 
" Oh ! 1 beg your pardon* You want to 
interview us ? Do you ? That is sad ; for 
I am just starting for the country, and my 

ttnHM ci f'hntu. by\ 


husband has gone to the theatre, Rehearsals, 
I believe, have begun. Come to me to- 
morrow — late — in the afternoon, and all 
will be well I am so sorry I have to 
catch a train " ; and before I could say 
another word this bright and reassuring lady 
had skip[>ed into her hansom* 

The following day, in the afternoon, I 
tried my luck again, * l Mr. and Mrs. Tree 
are expected home almost immediately," 
declared the maid ; and would I w^ait in 
the drawing-room, meanwhile ? As she ltd 
me upstairs, like a conscientious journalist, I 
kept my eyes open. 

A quaint little ante-room, at the head of 
the stairs , first attracted me. Here stood a 
nurse, with a baby in her arms, listening to 
the crowing of a cuckoo clock. Rather a 
singular-looking baby, I thought, but a very 
pretty one, with her black, uplifted eyes, 
and the row of bright-red curls across her 


"Go away," 
she said, imperi- 
ously, waving a 
fat little hand in 
my face. 

I confess to 
feeling a slight 

said the child, 
frowning, and 
pointing at the 
front door. Then, 
suddenly forget- 
ting her resent- 
ment at my 
wretched, rash 
intrusion, she put 
her finger in her 
mouth, and 
raised her wistful 
eyes in the direc- 
tion of the de- 
parted cuckoo, 

" I will make 

friends with that 

nurse," I said to 

myself. "Who knows but what I may glean 

some item of information from so responsible 

a looking person ? " 

" Your little charge P I began, approach- 

I ■'■''(■ U •-:'/ - 

ing her with a solicitous smile. 




(l Miss Felicity is just eighteen months," 
she remarked, with icy dignity, as if she antici- 
pated the question. Then pride in her charge 
breaking down the barriers of restraint, she 
added, "And a 
very fine child 
for her age. As 
for her intelli- 
gence, I can 
assure you, 
sir " 

" I am con- 
vinced of it," I 

" She knows 
all one is talk- 
ing about, and 
if you could see 
her when she 
isn't shy, you 
would " 

14 I am sure I 

Should be de- ^ima^ibk^J MM FELICITY TKEt, 

lighted," [ re- 
plied. " But her name, you say, is Felicity. 
Why Felicity?" 

"Well, you see* sir,' 1 said the nurse, "she 
was born in December ! " 

" December ! " 1 mused. And as I mused, 
there came into my mind certain lines of 
Keats : — 

On a (I rear- nigh ted December, loo happy, happy tree, 
Thy branches ne'er remember their green felicity ; 

and I wondered if the verses had suggested 
the name. 

At this point 
the baby, weary 
of waiting for 
the return of the 
cuckoo, became 
once more aware 
of my presence. 

<£ Good-bye!" 
she repeated, 
with marked 
hauteur. This 
time I felt she 
would brook no 
gainsaying* So 
I escaped up the 
green stairs to a 
green drawing- 
room* What a 
pretty room it 
was, too, and 
leading from it 
another equally 
charming, A for- 

get-me-not and its leaves had, I am told, 
suggested the colouring of the walls to Mrs. 
Tree. Anyhow, the front room is distempered 
blue, and the back room a dim, reposeful 

green, Both are 
panelled white, 
and hung with 
Hoi Iyer's repro- 
ductions of 
works — the 
" Briar Rose," 
*' Creation of the 
World," "Love 
Among the 
Ruins n — nor 
should I forget 
Watts's "Gany- 
mede" and 
11 Psyche," and 
many another 
beautiful study 
by the same 
great artist* For 
the rest, the 
room remains upon the memory's eye as 
a vista of flowering chintz, of great arm fills 
af flowers and greenery a-growing and 
a-blowing in pots and vases, of quaint, 
countrified furniture and old china, of tables 
laden with old silver and new silver, and of 
shelves ranged with books. Indeed, 1 never 
saw so great a number of books in any 

Just as I was about to take down a %'olume 

I Ati?z it Hi/ftt*. 


rHE JJACK OKAWI0Flj^iwa| f flQ ITl 


Alfred KllU. 



of Swinburne's verses, and while away the 
waiting hour, came a double rat-tat at the 
door, and in ran Mrs. Tree. A dazzling 
frock was hers, of silver and old lace and 
turquoise blue ! I looked my admiration. 
Mrs. Tree explained: "This is a wedding 
garment I have just been to a wedding/ 3 

Then, after a moment's pause, I t:om- 
menced, "It was about yourself, Mrs. Tree, 
and your husband, that I came here, like 
Dickens's young man, wanting to know, 
you know." 

"That's the dreadful part of it, M laughed 
Mrs, Tree, " I cannot bear being inter- 
viewed. Nor can my husband. If you 
could promise that you 
will not sav my smile 
is * charming,' . it would 
put us on a better foot- 
ing at once." 

I gave a faithful pro- 
mise> and then, glancing 
round the room, begged 
to be told something at 
least about the household 

" What is the story, 
for instance, of this 
quaint picture of Hamlet 
in the corner?" I asked, 
pointing out a poster — a 
panel of brown paper, 
stretched from floor to 
ceiling, on which an 
heroic-sized Hamlet was 
daubed in tar, apparently. 

" That ! Oh ! that was 
a Christmas card from 
Ellen Terry to Herbert 
— my husband. Ellen 
Terry is kindness itself, 
always remembering her old friends, always 
full of fun and graciousness, Once, when I 
had rheumatic fever at Hampstead, she drove 
up to see me and distract my thoughts during 
convalescence, bringing with her an air- ha 11 
and other toys. Then, when we were bound for 
America, she sent me a life-saving apparatus ! 
A fur and woollen lined bag into which to 
roll oneself when lying on deck. There 
is no end to her thoughtful ness. Then," 
continued Mrs. Tree, "this little oil-colour of 
our daughter Viola is the work of Mr, De 
G;i st 10 yes ! it is wonderfully painted. 
Tliat head of her, again, in red chalks, is 
by Winifred Brooke Alder, a rising young 
artist, of whom you may have heard/' 

"Tell me more," I said t after a pause, 
turning to the bookshelf. 

Mrs, Tree handed me a volume of " Asiatic 
Studies," by Sir Alfred LyelL On the first 
blank page is written by the author a graceful 
poem of dedication to Mrs. Tree, which 
appears to me absolutely characteristic of 
the personality of the lady to whom it is 
addressed. The lines run thus; — 

Of voice and step that charmed the mind. 

The subtle grace of fashion. 
The song, the sportive wit refined t 

A nil touch the springs of fashion* 

14 Ah ! I forgot," said Mrs. Tree, u you 
must not read those lines. They are too flat- 
tering," and laughing, she took them from my 
hand, <£ See ! " she continued, " Swinburne 
and Shelley, Browning 
and Ixjiigfellow, Rossetti 
and Tennyson, has each 
his niche here. My 
favourite poet? Oh! 
Indeed I cannot say* I 
love each so clearly in his 
own way. My favourite 
authors? I am afraid 
Fm horribly indiscrimi- 
nate — Balzac and Barrie, 
Dickens and George 
Meredith, Thackeray and 
Tourgenieff, Miss Austen 
and Ibsen— I read them 
all. I glide contentedly 
from the i Mill on the 
Floss ' to ' Marcella/ from 

* Salammbo ' to s Senti- 
mental Tommy/ from the 

* Vicar of Wakefield' to 
the ( Child of the Jago/ 
These are the books I 
could read over and over 
again. My hundred books 
range from Gibbon to 

I am ashamed to say I have 
Sir Walter Scott; I suppose, 

But I 

Gyp. No ! 

never read 

because I did not begin as a child 

am going to begin reading him to Viola now, 

and I expect I shall grow to love him through 

her mind, 

"And that reminds me! 7J went on Mrs. 
Tree. "You must let nie show you her 
museum." I was led to a curiouSj spindle- 
legged cabinet table under the glass of which 
reposed precious relics of childish joys — a 
quaint old painted fan, a few silver pouncet- 
boxes, the mummified remains of an audacious 
looking reptile — " Viola/ 1 explained Mrs, 
Tree, "has an extraordinary penchant for 
reptiles and everything that creeps." 

"And your own particular treasures, Mrs, 


25 6 


" Here, for one, is a chatelaine in gold 
and mother of pearl, given me by dear Mrs. 
Stirling, after she had seen me play Ophelia, 
It was accompanied by a delightful letter 
telling me its history- — 'how it was worn on 
the stage by the incotn parable Miss O'Neill' 
I used to delight in wearing it every night 
in ' Hamlet/ to represent ' Remembrances of 
yours, 1 Here, again, is a ring— it is old Floren- 
tine—which Alfred Gilbert, the sculptor, 
gave my husband. This little red clock 
is mine— a gift from Sir Henry Irving— and 
that photograph of Burne- Jones's ' Psyche ' 
came to me from Ellen Terry. Now look 
at some nf my 
books! Lord 
])ufferin,you see, 
sent me ' Sberi* 
dan/ with his 
own brilliant pre- 
face, and that 
delightful book 
about his mother 
And ttpropos of 
Lord Dufferin, I 
remember how 
he and the iate 
Mr. Arthur Cecil 
Blunt met at our 
table one night 
and made friends 
over the fact that 
Arthur Cecil had 
been present at 
a performance of 
I^idy Dufferin's 

play, l The * 

No ! I cannot 
remember the 
name. But to 
return to my 
books. Henry 
James gave me 
his two come- 
dies, * Tenants T 

and * Disengaged ' ; Alfred Austin, his * Love's 
Widowhood.' Hamilton Aide is represented 
by several novels as well as charming land- 
scapes in water-colour, And here, you see, are 
the works of Matthew Arnold and Browning* 
I am proud to remember that I knew them 
both personally in their life-time. Then you 
see here a copy of Joseph Jefferson's 'Life 
and Letters,' Jefferson is a great favourite in 
the United States, and his name will be for 
ever linked with the character of Rip Van 
Winkle. We made his incomparable ac- 
quaintance in Boston, and he at once added 
us to the crowd of those who know and 


ftvina Photo h r«™*rrf frri*k**t*r, MutL 

love him, Colonel John Hay gave me t too, 
this book of his own poems," 

Once more, after a moment's respite, Mrs. 
Tree laughingly pointed out a fresh treasure- 
"Here is a curled-up ivory monkey from 
Mr. and Mrs, Henschel ; and here a cloisonne 
en am el -box that came from Mr. Gilbert. 
The whole history of a dynasty is contained 
within its little inside I It was part of the 
spoil taken many years ago from a sacked 
place in Japan, The brooch in this case 
was given to me by the Queen, and that 
silver salver to my husband, after we 
had played at Balmoral," 

" Did you find 
the Queen an 
app r ecia t i ve 
audience?" I in- 

" Yes, indeed/ 1 
was the reply, 
" Critical ? " 
" Oh 1 no. Not 
exactly that ; but 
very intent. The 
Queen has a 
beautiful man- 
ner/' added Mrs. 
Tree, " and a 
voice of extra- 
ordinary sweet- 

Mrs. Tree's 
pictures are as 
great a delight to 
her as the knick- 
knacks which 
strew her tables, 
and she chatted 
in her light and 
charming way 
about them. 

"Now, look 
at my pictures. 
Those of Burne- 
Jones and Watts are my favourites. But 
those, you know — they require no word 
of explanation. Over here is a water-colour 
sketch of me by Mr Percy Anderson as Le 
Passant. And this a beautifully done copy of 
Rossetti, by an amateur. And this an etch- 
ing of Windsor presented by Mr. Kemble 
after we had played the * Merry Wives of 
Windsor.' As you may see, he has written on 
it ( To Sweet Anne Page, 1 This— the last of 
our possessions of which I mean to talk, for, 
indeed, I must be boring you— is a portrait 
of me exhibited at the New Gallery, and 
painted by our friend, Mr. Phil Burne- Jones," 




" Have you always lived in Sloane Street? " 

14 Oh ! dear, no ! We have had a hundred 
different houses. Once we lived in Cheyne 
Walk, and there never was a sweeter place to 
see the spring from than from the windows 
of that house, The remembrance of the 
almond trees, and the river, and the green 
mist of the young trees in Batter sea Park 
makes me cry regretfully, each year, l Oh ! 
to be in Chelsea, now that April's there ! * 
Then once we had rather a mansion of a 
house in South Ken- 
sington. That had a 
pretty drawing-room, 
which I made from 
tulip-yellow walls and 
light green curtains, 
but on the whole the 
house was too Lin- 
crustan and ana- 
glyptic for us. We 
never could enter into 
the spirit of its stair- 
ease. So we fled from 
its splendours/' 

il What was your 
next home ? " 

"We had a kind 
of rambling flat built 
over a place for hiring 
carriages* I used to 
call it A The House of 
the Seven Stables,'" 

"I thought you 
lived at Hampstead 
once ? " 

" Ah ! yes ; and I 
wish we were there 
still. We had a 
charming old house 
on the very top of 
Hampstead Heath, 
with a large garden, 
and a meadow; and 
a cow, and a lodge, 
and a view. One 
could just not see the 
Crystal Palace, but 
caught the actual glimmer of the Firth of 
Forth ! Every season of the year was beautiful 
at Hampstead, even when 'full knee-deep lay 
the winter snow/ and eight horses were 
necessary to bring each doctor to our door 
when every inmate of the house was laid low 
with bronchitis I " 

" Did you not find Hampstead rather a 
lon^ way off?" 

** Yes. So I hired a carriage for a little 
while. I called it my Victorian Era. But 


Frout a I'httia, by T^nur it firinirttfitfr^ if nit. 

as a matter of fact, hansoms were within an 
hour's call ; and time doesn't seem to matter 
at Hampstead. 1 ' 

Mrs. Tree now sank into a chair, smiling, 
but evidently exhausted with the effort she 
had made as show-woman of her home. 

M Have I not told you enough ? " she 
asked, rather plaintively, 

" Indeed, no ! ty I replied, hurriedly. 
f * There are many questions which I should 
like to ply you with — that is, if you will 

allow it." 

"Among other 
things, then/' went 
on Mrs. Tree, " I 
know that before this 
interview is over you 
will at least have 
asked me my opinion 
of the New Woman." 
u Well/ 5 1 assented, 
44 1 should very much 
like to hear it. 5 ' 

"I have no opinion 
of her ! " was the 
trenchant reply. " I 
look upon her as a 
sort of Mrs, Harris. 
I don't believe she 
even exists. She's a 
woman of no im- 
ports nee, created hy 
novelists and drama- 
tists, who would cut 
a very sad figure in 
real lite. Anyhow, I 
never happen to have 
met one, though I'm 
told specimens, like 
rare stamps, may he 
found here and 

"Did you not 
even ine^t a New 
Woman in the United 
States ? " I inquired, 
" No ! Not even 
there. Apropos of the 
United States, you know of my husband's 
engagement there. He has looked forward 
to the trip very much indeed, for we made 
many friends there on our first tour in i?95, 
and the public received us most kindly." 

M I suppose you admired, with the rest, 
the women of New York ? " 

" Yes. Those we met were very interest- 
ing, pretty, and smart," 
"And New York?" 
"Ah ! Newi3fprk|*»rt?y greatest surprise! 




From a Photo. b^\ 


I never dreamed of the air of luxury and end- 
less wealth and comfort one sees on every side. 
The carriages, the horses, the buildings in 
Fifth Avenue ! But I think what struck me 
most was the Opera House. An enormous 
house, all glorious within- -white, you know, 
quite white, no gilding, I should like nur 
new theatre to be just like it. And then, 
what had a fascinating look were two little 
white wooden doors on each side of the stage, 
through one of which the artists come to 
bow on the fall of 
the curtain, re- 
tiring through the 
other. They used 
to have such 
doors in old 
English theatres, 
as one may see 
by prints of a 
bygone period," 

* " I suppose you 
were worried a 
good deal by the 
interviewer out 
there ? n 

tl There are 
interviewers here, 
too, sometimes," 
said Mrs. Tree, 
with a significant 
smile ; and then 
added : " No ; we 
were not victim- 
ized very much, ^a^oju 

" Some of the 
newspaper criti- 
cisms of our act- 
ing were wonder- 
fully clever and 
i 1 1 u rn i nating, 
Others again 
were, well, neither 
clever nor illumi- 
nating. We would 
In ugh tremen- 
dously over the 
newspaper des- 
criptions of our 
personalities in 
one or two of the 
smaller towns. 
My husband was 
spoken of * As no 
dramatic artist 
this, but a manly, 
hon est, ha r d- 
working, unaffect- 
ed fellow. J And 
1 was described as 'a dark, Hebraic-looking 
woman, with a slight lisp. J Once we enter- 
tained at Chicago a very charming lady, We 
had no idea that she was a journalist My 
young brother-in-law, Max Beerbohm, was 
there, too,- We all talked together uncon- 
cernedly, and had great fun. The next morn- 
ing everything we had said rose up again 
before our eyes in print at the breakfast table. 3 " 
"Max Beerbohm is your brother-in-law?" 
"Yes, yes. You know — the one who 




*^' ^w 





"^P -1 





- 1-^- 


1 V9 

i ■ 




[Alfred K-iit. 


2 59 

does the essays and caricatures. In America 
he had quite a success on his own account. 
His writings in the Yellow Book were well 
known. He is an amusing boy, The other 
day/ just when his collected i Works ' were 
going to be published, I asked him if he 
thought they would be a great success, 

" ' Well/ he said, gravely, 'my only fear is 
that the nation will insist on burying me 
alive in Westminster Abbey/ 

" Now he is writing some fairy tales for 
'The British Child. 1 

" ' Will the British child understand 
them ? ' somebody inquired. 

" * Oh ! I think so/ he answered. ( When 
it grows up ! ' 

M At Boston, early one morning, an in- 
terviewer came to interview Max, hut my 
husband, thinking he had come for him, rose 
in haste, and passing into the sitting-room, 
there saw Max ensconced in a yellow 
dressing-gown, answering every question. 
1 Go away , Herbert!' exclaimed Max, 'This" 
is my interviewer ! ' m ■ 

" I must ttll you another mot of Max's ' 
An American asked him if he could stand 
the artificially- 
heated r o o rns. 
1 Oh, yes ! I don't 
mind them ! J he 
replied. l What I 
can't stand is that 
you keep your 
streets artificially 
cold!' But, here," 
exclaimed Mrs. 
Tree, " comes my 
husband ! I hear 
his voice on the 
stairs. I shall leave 
hirn to tell you all 
about our new 
theatre/ 1 

"Stay! Mrs, 
Tree," I entreated 
— I really dreaded 
the departure of 
the genial lady — 
M One word, only 
one word, more ! 
Are your little 
daughters going on 
the stage? If you 
will tell me that, 
I will ask nothing 
further/ 1 

"We never have 
wished our daugh- 
ter to act Cer- 

tainly^ never, never! Though I have often 
seen- it said in several newspapers that 
she is to go .on the stage, this is utterly 
untrtRf. But she takes a great interest in 
our plays, and criticises our performances — 
just a little harshly — sometimes, to our 
amusement. As a very little child, she was 
askeel if she meant to be an actress when 
she grew up. i Oh, no ! / mean to marry ! * 
was the answer she gave* _ I believe she still 
thinks marriage a profession. As for Felicity, 
she is a tiny baby : we have not considered 
her future yet ! And now I must really 
say gopd-bye. Here "is my" husband, you 

Mrs, Tree vanished,, turning her head as 
she left the room, and though I say it, who 
shouldn't, her smile was chaiuning* Now 
enter Mr. Tree, looking, I thought, the 
embodiment of health and strength. When 
he w&s starring in America, the famous actor 
was variously described as the "'beau ideal" 
of an English country squire, " a clergyman," 
"a barrister-like looking man " — never as an 
acrtor. But for my part, I think he looks 
what he is, a distinguished actor with brains, 

a man who takes 
an interest in all 
sorts of subjects 
outside his own 
profession. A bril- 
liant litterateur 
once gave a word- 
painting of him 
which I think is 
worth repeating 
here, and which has 
not seen the lifeht 
11 on this side" : — 
" In talking with 
M r. Tree one 
recognises that he 
is a man of imagi- 
nation and literary 
insight, with a tem- 
perament full of 
sympathy and 
humanity. He is 
not without the 
genial irony which 
marks the mental 
habit of so many 
artists nowadays, 
but against that is 
set a really marked 
simplicity, love of 
life, of character, 
and an active re- 

MK. H. bKEKBOHM TKKI-* UN Q I H a I TTQ ITl enpr i f nr t k p 

mmamtol ^^'" s nrfli?ra'rYOFMicHK&N 



Ffrmi 4i P)uitt>. by the Lortrtim StettQUCOpit Cain-puny. 

beautiful. He is a man of manners, 
yet his reserve is the frugality of a 
warm nature rather than the isolation 
of egotism. He is not sentimental, 
yet he has sentiment. Impulsive he 
certainly is, but yet he is also deliberate 
and constant in all that concerns his 
work, He is hard to satisfy ; at 
rehearsals he is imperious and exact- 
ing ; but he has the confidence of all 
who play with him, or write for him ; 
for all know that he is a true and 
sympathetic craftsman, looking afn r 
the divine effect. He is a man of 
moods, but he would be no actor if 
he were not. His effects are not 
machine-made ; they are the result of 
impressions of :i spirit amenable to 
the power ot the right thing, governed 
by the good discipline of art which 
says, 'This shall thou do/ and 'This 
shalt thou not do.'" 

These lines, written, strange to say, 
by one who had but a slight acquaint- 
ance with the famous actor, are said 
to he extraordinarily to the point by 
those who have had a life-long intimacy 
with him. 

Mr. Tree, when he entered the room, 
wore a half absent, half-anxious air, 

'* Busy, terribly busy," he murmured, 

as he shook hands. And, indeed, from his 

every pocket bulged huge packets of letters, 

which he would be obliged to read, mark, and 

answer be fore the day was out 

"My new theatre is taking up every moment 

of my time just now. You want to know all 

about it? Why, so you shall, as far as I am at 

present able to tell"' 

11 When, then, do you expect the building to 

be complete ? " 

"Oh! I hope early in the beginning of the 

new year. Perhaps at the end of March ; 

but certainly April." 

14 Can you tell me what the theatre is really 

to be like? I have heard so many contradictory 


"Well, if you want a few facts, here they are. 

The building is to occupy a length of 150ft. 

towards ChaTes Street, and will have a frontage 

in the Haymarket. There will he eleven exits 

and entrances at least. On three sides — the 

Charles Street, 
and the Opera 
Arcade — the 
theatre will be 
practically iso- 

" Is it true that 
an hotel is to be 
built close by ? w 
"Oh, yes. An 
hotel will be 
raised on the re- 
maining portion 
of the site and be 
separated from 
the theatre by a 
thick wall, so 
that no disturb- 
ing sounds wil! 
be heard on 
either side. Port- 
land stone is the 
material to be 
used for the 
building, and the 
facade, both of 
the hotel and 
theatre, will be 
in the French 
style. n 

" Is it indis- 
creet to inquire 
the cost of the 

Ilh Mnt it nil 

AS PAUL DEMETKtLS TN " TUK REt3 LAWK* 1 1 " UL ll \ rt "' 

FrtmaPkntfi . Atf Itarniirdi. The COst Will be 





From a photo, by ike London tittTynrntpie Cmapanv. 

something like ^58,000. The architect is 
Mr* Phipps, and his coadjutor in the work 
that very accomplished gentleman, Mr. 
Romanes Walker." 

" About the interior of the building/' I began. 

"Ah!" laughed Mr Tree. "There are 
several new features which I will not reveal 
at present. Rut I can tell you of the change 
from a flat stage to an open one, and the 
entire separation of the stage from the 
auditorium. Then I think of having a 
number of 5s or 6s. seats between the stalls 
and the pit. I believe those will be liked, I 
hope so. I have always wished to lower all 
the prices of the seats at my theatre, but I am 
afraid the scheme might prove impracticable.' 1 

" And the decoration of the theatre, inside 
and out?" 

(l Of the outside I have spoken —the French 
Renaissance, you know. At present we 
wish, my wife and I, to have the interior 
all painted white and the seats crimson, 
and with painted panels, after Boucher, 
in the style of the l^ouis Quatorze. We 
admired the whiteness and absence of gilding 
at the Metropolitan Opera House in New 
York so greatly." 

Digitized by V^iOOQ It 

" At Bayreuth I suppose you have gathered 
some hints? " 

11 Yes, oh I yes ! At Bayreuth the theatre 
can be enlarged or made smaller at will by 
shifting the stage, I hope to introduce that 
arrangement. In America, you know, they 
have a capital plan of sending volumes 
of iced air into their theatres on hot 
nights* I hope we have conquered that 
secret too. People go to the play just for 
the sake of enjoying the refreshing coolness ! 
And I have another good idea for the 
comfort of audiences in the summer months. 
Now t don't you think I have talked enough 
about ' Her Majesty's' ?" 

I made a gesture of dissent, but at that 
moment a maid put her head in at the 
door, saying that a tody was most anxious to 
have a few words with Mr. Tree* With a 
murmured excuse, the actor left me, only to 
reappear again very shortly with a smile upon 
his face, 

"Would you believe it? :T he exclaimed. 
11 That is the sixth application 1 have had 




as ckincoikk jn ,l Tiiti Li ALLAu-MOKCfr":*. 
Ftjm ft Phot®, bu Sammitn Aew fifafc 

to-day from a lady who wishes* to go on the 
stage. The number of letters of entreaty I 
daily receive from histrionic aspirants would 
amaze you. Some of these letters are the 
strangest compositions possible. I have kept 
several of the more absurd/' and Mr. Tree 
went to a bureau and returned with a note 
which he, laughing bade me read* The 
letter ran as follows : — 

"4 T eneertHl Sir, — I wish to go on the stage, 
and I would like to join your valuable theatre. 
I have been a bricklayer for five years, but 
having failed in this branch I have decided 
to take on acting, it being easier work, I 
am not young, but am six foot tall without 
any boots. I have studied Bell's system of 
elocution and am fond of late hours* — E: S." 

I( I have received dozens of letters quite as 
extraordinary as this one/' declared Mr* 
Tree, after I had finished reading it 

11 Now will you tell me," I asked, after we 
had discussed several indifferent subjects, 
" which is your favourite part ? " 

■ "Qh ! I think Gringoire in 'The Ballad- 
monger 1 is the part -I- oiost enjoy, acting* 
B*it of course thefe is Hamkt ,....! In 
a different way I delight in playing a £art 
like Sir- Woodbine Grafton in 'Peril.' H 

11 Did you find the American audiences 
sympathetic ? " \ [ ■ ' '. ' \ 

"Yes! On the whole, very' sympathetic. 
It is remarkable' how the Americans 
appreciate lb sen. I shall never forget their 
recef)tip ri pf the/Etiqmy of the People. 7 At 
Chicago ^specially, the audience positively 
inspired us - all when we gave the play there." 
, *' What struck you most in America?" 

"The hospitality and kindness of the 
people. If , you arc an author, and 
invited out to dinner, you will find that the 
hostess and every one of the guests have 
taken the trouble to read aU youi; books 
beforehand. Isn't that true hospitality? If 
you are an actor, they know everything about 
your career, and will discuss all the parts you 


From a Photo, by the London Hter#HK!Qtrie tfowipany, — 

have played. The women are usually pretty, 
and always charmingly dressed. But over here 
we hear too much about the American women, 
and too little about the men. We met such a 




number of courteous 
and accomplished 
gentlemen, wherever 
we went, The culture 
of some of the 
younger men there 
is remarkable. They 
are thoroughly well 
versed in modern 
history and modern 
art. Where Americans 
seem to me especially 
to shine is in their 
after-d inner speeches. 
They quite surpass us 
in this respect, though 
as a general conver- 
sationalist the Eng- 
lishman has the pull- 
General conversation, 
indeed, is rather rare 
at an American din- 
ner-party. Rut almost 
every born American 
can manage to make 
a brilliant after-dinner 
speech/ 1 

" I suppose you were 
often asked for an 
'anecdote ' by your 
fellow-diners? " 

4i Oh ! yes. The 
true American 
loves an anec- 
dote. I acted Fal- 
shiff there, not 
my last Fa /staff 
in ' Henry IV./ 
but the older, 
more farcical 
man in the ■ Merry 
Wives of Wind- 
sor/ Rather an 
absurd thing hap- 
pened, apropos. I 
had planned that 
Fa/staff, driven 
to desperation by 
the gibes and 
buffets of the 
elve in Windsor 
Forest, should 
make one mighty 
effort to climb 
the oak tree, The 
pegs that were to 
serve as supports 
for that tree— 
and this Tree — 


were conspicuous by 
their absence. On the 
morning before the 
performance, I was 
assured that they 
should be there, The 
morning came, but 
with it no pegs. With 
the calm of despair I 

" The ejaculation, 
spoken more in sor- 
row than in anger, 
would, I hoped, ap- 
peal to the conscience 
of my property-man. 
In the evening there 
was a dress rehearsal, 
but still no pegs could 
be seen. My form 
trembled, beneath its 
padding, with emo- 
tion—of not a plea- 
sant sort — and in a 
voice shaken, as I 
thought, by righteous 
indignation, I asked 
again :— 

" 'Where are those 
t>egs ? ' 

M L Pegs ! Pegs ! ■ 
answered the 
property - man, 
with provoking 
amiability- 'Why! 
guv'nor, what 
were your words 
to me this morn- 
ing ? No Pegs. 
And there ain't 

none ' " 

At this moment, 
the servant ap- 
peared again at 
the door, "lam 
afraid," began 
Mr. Tree, w that 
you must excuse 
me. My business 
manager wishes 
to have a word 
with me." 

" I have already 
trespassed, I fear, 
long upon your 
patience. But 


jt™ ff 7>M.b,4OTttfflHiL before you go, 



From a Fbote- by Alfred EUU. 



something about that 
much abused person, 
the actor-manager ? " 
"Well, the critics 
are right in abusing 
him in some ways, I 
suppose, " replied Mr. 
Tree, rather absently. 
"But 1 think it must 
be admitted that the 
actor-manager is able 
to do more for the 
propagation of new 
dramatic ideas and 
the development of 
modern drama than 
the manager who is 
not an actor. They 
are more willing to 
make experiments 
with new plays which 
please their fancy. 
They can judge better 
of the probable value 
of cutting out these 
scenes or keeping in 


From a photo, bo A imd Duponi. 

fVmrt Ihi JfcdJOTi o v iff. C. J Fhiw*. 

3 y Google 

those> for instance. 
Besides, I truly believe 
that most uf the artistic 
results shown on the 
stfige during our genera- 
tion have been due to 
the actor-manager, A 
lay-manager, I suppose, 
if he loved his work 
and had the capacity 
for it, would be the 
ideal head of :i theatre. 
The double burden of 
acting and manage- 
ment would not he his. 
But—" breaking off 
suddenly — H I really 
must ask you to excuse 
me. I have just re- 
membered I have 
another appointment 
after this one with my 
secretary. Au revoir / n 
and Mr, Tree was 
already halfway down 
the stairs, W. p. 

T/ii Salvage Hunter. 

By Cutcliffe Hvne. 


ICHAEL POWER, the third 
tnate, was standing with his 
grizzled chin thrust over the 
starboard dodger of the Black 
Pearl's upper bridge, and the 
binoculars at his eyes were 

pointed to a shadowy outline which loomed 

vaguely through the darkness as It swung in 

the trough of the Western Ocean swell. 

" Not a light showing anywhere,"' 1 Power 

summarized. " Mizzenmast off the deck and 

mainmast stand- 
ing, as the Yankee 

wreck -chart said. 

She's got her fore- 
yard crossed, but 

the topmast and 

the rest of the gear 

are gone by the 

upper cap. She'll 

have dropped 

those in that 

breeze of last 

week. Likewise all 

the boats, barring 

the two lifeboats 

we took ; she must 

have been pretty 

well swept That 

funnel's scoured 

down to the naked 

iron. But it doesn't 

look shaky, though. Glad 

1 had those funnel-stays 

set up the day before it 

happened," He stared on 

with a drawn face whilst tlur 

derelict passed astern, (( But 

she can't have much water in 

her, or she wouldn't swim like 

that And the cargo's shifted 

into place again : she's lost all her list Oh, 

Ixjrd, my luck ! Why can't I have her back 

now ? " 

The Black Pearl went ahead at her steady 

nine knots, and the timber in her holds 

squeaked like a supper party of mice as the 

rollers shouldered her over their backs. The 

deserted steamer dwindled into the night 

astern. With a sigh, Power left the shelter 

of the canvas dodger, and turned to go down 

to the track chart, which lay on the table at 

the head of the companion-way. He was 

going to make an accurate (and private) note 

Vol. aiii.— 34 Copyright, 1897, by Cutcliffe Hyi 

of the derelict's then position upon the face 
of the waters. 

But as he turned, another figure met 
him on the ladder of the upper bridge, 
and he recognised with a shock the second 
quartermaster of the watch, the official 
look-out on the Black PearVs forecastle 
head. The man had given no warning 
of having seen the derelict drift past, and 
Power, with a gush of thankfulness, had 
supposed him to be asleep. The pair met 
across the binnacle, swaying to the roll 


The yellow glow from the compass card lit 
both their faces. Each read the knowledge 
of the other at a glance, 

" Well, quartermaster?" 

" I didn't hail you," the sailor said. " I 
thought best not ; I reckoned you'd see her 
for yourself, and maybe want to do some- 


He omitted the "sir," and 

spoke in a stormy undertone, so as not to 
be heard by the other quartermaster at the 
wheel in the house below. 

The grilled mate beckoned the man away 
to the shelter of the starboard dodger. 

» iti the United'sitiyif'ilrfctjy." 11 




" You — you spotted her, then ? " 

" I was on the Caspian myself once, when 
she was in the Bombay trade. That was 
before you got her, captain." 

" Yes," said Power. " I wasn't appointed 
till she'd left that, and the firm had put her 
on the South America run. But you're sure 
it's her?" 

"As sure as you are. What sailorman 
ever shipped on a steamboat and forgot her 
afterwards ? " 

" Why — why didn't you hail me ? " Power 
asked, nervously. 

" Because I reckoned that if you wanted to 
make a noise, Captain Power, you'd use your 
own voice. I don't owe the old man here 
anything that I know of. Nor do you, I 
should say. All hands forrard has seen the 
way he's been treating you — you that had a 
master's ticket before he was put in breeches. 
If we picked up that steamboat now and 
towed her in somewhere, the skipper here 
would make a thousand pounds, and I'd 
get tipped a matter of two weeks' wages. 
Well, a couple of quid isn't to be sneezed at 
by a man like me that's steadied down and 
got a wife and kids to keep ashore, and I tell 
you I had it in mind of me first to sing out 
blue glory. But when I looked aft and saw 
you with your glasses on her, squinting for 
all you were worth, but never letting up a 
word, I says to myself, ' The third mate — the 
captain that was — knows his own business. 
He's got a game on, and if there's a nice thing 
to be picked up out of this, W. Joist will not 
be forgotten. The captain of the Black 
Pearl is a beggar, but Captain Power, that 
used to be master of the Caspian before he 
had his misfortune, is a gentleman every inch 
of him.' " 

The quartermaster broke off and knuckled 
his sealskin cap. 

" I don't think I was wrong, sir ? " he said, 

" Quartermaster," said the third mate, 
huskily, " I'm hanged if I know what to say 
to you. I'm hanged if I know what to say 
to myself." 

" Very good, sir," said Joist, " don't let me 
scurry you. But there ought to be dollars in 
the old Caspian^ Captain Power, if one can 
only see where they come in. And y'know 
I'm a married man, sir, with a missis and 
kids to think about." 

" You great fool," said Power, " do you 
think you're the only man in the world with 
a wife and family that are hungry ? Look at 
me : I was a steamboat skipper myself once, 
all brass-edged, and proud as a soldie 

ud as a soldier. I 

3y Google 

was earning a matter of between fifteen and 
twenty pound a month, and we lived 
up to it. I'd a house ashore as smart 
as any man could wish for, and our 
minister had supper with us Sunday 
nights fifty-two times every year. I'd a 
good insurance mounting up, and in thirty 
more months' time I should have been able 
to have left the sea and be the gentleman 
ashore, with money to live on. I was going 
to run a hen farm : it's a thing I've been 
looking forward to all my life. Then up gets 
my luck and smacks me fair in the face. The 
old Caspian is loaded with machinery for the 
River Plate ; she gets into a blow ; the stuff 
inside her shifts ; and she gets a list on her 
which there is no curing. It's the blessed 
Liverpool stevedore's fault, I reckon, but 
that doesn't count for much once you've left 

" No, sir" said Joist. 

"Of course, I did my best: any man 
would have done. I put her round and let 
her take the seas on her other side ; but that 
only made her worse, and just then the whole 
blessed bed-plate must needs start in the 
engine-room. I tell you the fellows from 
down there hopped up on deck like rats. 
The old chief gave me news of it himself. 
He said his engines might take charge any 
minute, and once they were adrift they'd go 
through the skin of her, like as though it 
was so much paper. He said he was badly 
scared, and wanted to leave the ship whilst 
there was still a chance. I told him that 
for me it was ' hang on all ' so long as she 
floated ; but he got talking amongst the 
crew, and they thought she might turn the 
turtle with them any minute, and they got 
the two lifeboats in the water in spite of all 
the ugly words I could think of. And then 
after that, there was nothing left for me but 
to go off with them. \Y T e got picked up, and 
a Consul sent us home, and there was a 
Board of Trade inquiry." 

" Well, they couldn't take away your ticket 
for that, sir ? " 

"Couldn't they, by James? You don't 
know the brutes. They suspended my 
master's certificate for six months, and gave 
me a mate's ticket to go on with. The old 
Caspian had been sighted by a Charleston 
schooner after we left her, still afloat. She'd 
righted again, and so, of course, they thought 
my yarn was all a lie." 

" She had lost her list when we passed her 
just now," Joist admitted, "and that's a holy 

"You needn'| n ^lf ri gTC/' retorted Power, 




grimly, i% I know it for myself. IVe remem- 
bered it most days, since that Yankee wreck- 
chart was handed in as evidence. I can tell 
you it's tolerable purgatory for a man who's 
been a master fifteen years to climb down to 
the other end again and be glad of a shop 
as third mate. I'm officering this ship just 
now ; to-morrow we'll be in soundings, and 
I sha'n T t be allowed to take a watch ! The 
mate will be set over me, a young slip of 
twenty-two, who does the funny dog business 
to make the other officers laugh at my bit of 
a stomach. Well, I know I'm not so slim as 
I was, and I suppose I am slow. But, look 
here, quartermaster, you keep your tongue 
quiet in your head, and if there's anything 
to be made out of the old Caspian^ you shall 
have a fling at it." 

'* Then you have a plan, sir ? M 

"I have no plan. But if I can get this 
poor old head of mine to work after I'm 
turned in, and any ideas come to me, I 
promise that you shall stand in to get your 
whack. And now I'll just slip below and 
prick off on the chart exactly where the old 
Caspian had drifted to 
when we saw her last." ■ — 

u Vd scorn to twit you 
with your misfortunes, 
Michael," said Mrs. 


Digitized by VLi 

v\ >r? sp^ 


"Woman," retorted Power, " you've done 
nothing else since the luck turned ; yes, even 
when the girls have been in the room with 
us. It's not what you've said so much as 
what you've done, and what you looked. 
You've not been to chapel once since it 

" How can I, for very shame ? We've had the 
minister in to supper every Sunday night since 
he's been on this circuit, and everyone knows 
we can't do it now ; and there's three other 
ladies that would invite him under my very 
nose, so that I might hear/* 

** You do nothing but stay at home and 

Mrs, Power blew her nose. 
u Michael — (sniff) — Michael, Vm very 
sorry. I try to bear up ; but losing the 
chapel society, and not having the minister 
in to supper, is a blow, and there's no deny- 
ing it" 

" You may think yourself deuced fortunate 
if you get any supper at all in the future," 
said Power, gloomily, u I'm hanged if I see 
where it's coming from." 

" Oh, Michael, you're never — " 
" I am, and they were quite 
right too. They've just paid me 
off at the office, up in New- 
castle. I'm not fit for a mate. 
Vm too old, and too fat, and 
too slow. If I'd been master of 
the Black Pearly I'd have fired 
such a mate out of her when 
we were loading the timber in 
Quebec. It was just a charity 
of the captain to let me run 
home in her, and I guess he 
only did it because he's a 
Shields man himself, and he 
knew Pd had misfortune," 

Mrs. Power shivered and whim- 
pered, " iVhat is to become 
of us?" she moaned. "We 
owe more than you have brought 
in, Michael, and I've only nine- 
pence left of what I drew of 
your half-pay. And the money 
for your insurance is due to- 

" Fat lot of chance there is of 
paying it," 

M There's only twenty - nine 
more months to keep it up 
now, and then we shall draw 
the whole ^2,000. That would 
support us in comfort all our 
time, and put the girls into 
iri&BWWfcftPd everything. And 




if we miss a month, it all goes. You know 
it says so on the paper." 

" Oh, Lord, yes, I know," said Power, 

" What will become of us ? " 

"They tell me," said Power, with heavy 
flippancy, " that the workhouse has just been 
re-painted, and is really very comfortable when 
you get used to the grub and the uniform." 

Mrs. Power sobbed noisily into her apron. 
Her husband went on : " You don't like the 
idea, old woman? Neither do I. Well, 
there seems just one chance of getting to 
windward of our luck, and I tell you that 
chance is a pretty sick one. Finding a 
needle in a truss of hay is easy compared to 
it But I guess that chance is about all 
we've got, and if we don't like it, we may as 
well bear up for the * house* at once." 

Mrs. Power looked up, red-eyed and 

" It's the old Caspian I'm thinking about. 
She's afloat somewhere away up north. I 
saw her three nights ago, and a quarter- 
master named Joist saw her too, and so there 
is no mistake. Now, I've pricked off where 
she was then, and I know what the winds 
have been since, and I can calculate the drift 
of the current. She's heading now for the 
North Cape of Norway, and I don't think 
there's much chance of anyone else picking 
her up. Y'know, the Black Pearl came 
north-about for here, and she'll be the last 
vessel sailing that way this season. Belle 
Isle Straits would be frozen up directly after 
we got through. So you see the chances are 
that no one's seen the Caspian, unless she's 
blundered against one of the Iceland cod- 
men coming home, or gone and piled herself 
up on some skerry off the Shetlands." 

Captain Power broke off, and tapped the 
oilcloth table-cover with his fingers. 

" And so you're going to give the informa- 
tion ? " said his wife. " They won't pay you 
for it. Not more than a pound or so. It 
isn't like towing her in. They're always 

" If you'd tell me who ' they ' are ? " 

"Why, the owners." 

"Yes, but who are the owners? The 
Company did own her once, but they got 
paid off by the underwriters. The under- 
writers gambled amongst themselves, and 
then they gave her up ; and who owns her 
now, the I/Ord may know, but I don't. Now 
I'll tell you what, my dear : you've got to find 
out who the owners are, and you've got to 
buy up their interest in her." 

" Me ! " screamed Mrs. Power. 


" Yes, you ! Woman, don't fling yourself 
about like that. Listen, and if you keep 
your head, we may cheat the workhouse yet. 
I've been to one of them money-lender 
fellows, and he says he'll take up my insur- 
ance, and give me ^250 for it — and not a 
penny more." 

" That'll never keep us our time, let us be 
as near as we may. And there'll be nothing 
left for the children." 

"You'll drive me mad," said Power. 
"Wait and hear my plan. Two hundred 
and fifty pounds by itself's no good for us. 
It would keep us three years, and we'd be 
thinking all the time of what was coming 
next, and be just miserable. But it's enough 
to gamble with. I'll leave you ^150, and 
you must find out who are the owners of the 
Caspian, and get them to resign all their 
claims for that. They'll do it fast enough ; 
they think she's totally lost. And if you 
can't work it yourself, get a lawyer. Only 
do it, my lass, and do it right, or I'll have all 
my trouble for nothing." 

" I don't understand you." 

" I don't suppose you do. But if you : ll 
put on your cloak and bonnet and come 
down street with me to that money-lender's 
to get the notes, I'll explain to you as we go." 


As the shore lamps were being put out 
next morning, and day was warming over the 
autumn swells of the North Sea, a green, 
clinker-built tug wound her way in and 
among the noisy traffic which plies upon the 
lower Tyne. As the tug paddled out between 
the pier-heads, the harbour extension men 
who had just started work noted that she 
carried coal in bulk upon her deck, and as 
they saw she was low in the water, they 
guessed that her bunkers were full also, and 
deduced that she was off on a long cruise. 
Someone commented that " Poor, fat old 
Power, who got into that mess over the 
Caspian, was in command, and that one Joist, 
who had been hitherto rated merely as able 
seaman, was acting as mate," and added " that 
it was a terrible come-down in the world for 
Power. Fancy a man who had been for 
twenty years master of regular cargo-liners, 
sinking down to skippering a little old clinker- 
built tug ! " 

The tug surged round the northern pier- 
head, her sponsons just clear of the water, 
and then she bore away into a course which 
would carry her a little to eastward of Bressay, 
which is off I^erwick on the mainland of 




The tug's complement was not excessive. 
There were three in the stokehold and engine- 
room 3 and there were the skipper, mate, and 
one deck-hand above. That made six all 
told ; and they took it in turns to cook, and 
each watch messed together in its entirety. 
Tea was always simmering in the kettle, but 
meal-times advertised themselves more ac- 
curately with a warm aroma of bloaters. 

Every day Captain Power with sextant and 
chronometer worked out the tug's position 
just to keep his hand in, though he could 
have run to Shetland by dead reckoning a id 
made a good landfall. And every day he 
studied a pencilled track on the chart across 
the far-off northern sea, gazing at it for half 
his watches below with puckered brow, noting 
with deep anxiety every phase of the weather 
overhead, and finally with the aid of parallel 
ruler and compasses adding a short pencil 
line. He was following in imagination the 
drift-course of the derelict Caspian* 

They picked up the light on Bressay one 
midnight, and were out of sight of the last 
skerry of the Shetlands when the next day 
broke dull and windy over the waters. There 
was a heavy sea running, but the little tug 
had burnt up most of her deck 
load, and rode over it drily, 
sq nattering w T ith her paddles like 
some grotesque green ocean fowl. 
Joist took over the watch (and 
the wheel) from Power at eight 
in the morning, but the tug } s 
master did not go down. He 
stretched his limbs and peered 
through the sea-haze with his 

*' Do you expect to find her 
as soon as this ? " Joist queried. 

*' Not yeL By my reckoning 
she should have drifted a good 
bit further north and east But 
ye know, matey, it's only been 
guess-work, and the sea's big, 
confounded big*" 

Joist sent tobacco juice on to 
the wheel grating. " If it wasn't/* 
said he, philosophically, " some- 
body else would have mapped 
her up months ago. When we 
saw her from the Black Fear I, 
she must have meandered quite 
3,000 miles without being caught, 
I shouldn't give up hope if we 
didn't see her for a week after 
we come on the ground where 
you calculate she is," 

" A week ! " cried Power, and 


then, like Vanderdecken, he spun out an oath. 
" Good heavens, Mr. Mate, you don't under- 
stand what this is to me. I'm at the end of 
my string, Nobody will hire me to be master 
of another steamboat, and I'm not fit for 
anything else but a skipper's berth. I'm sixty- 
three years old this month, and I've followed 
the sea all my life ; I can put my hand to no 
other trade. I Ve got no money to go on with ; 
I've sunk my last sixpence in chartering this 
tug, and I tell you I haven't the pluck to 
get back to South Shields and watch my old 
woman starve, and see my two girls just drift 
off to the deuce. You can call me a coward, 
if you like, but that's the way I'm built ; 
and the Lord, who's listening this moment, 
knows it. Whether He's going to let us 
pick up the old Caspian^ and pluck her in 
somewhere, He only knows for certain just 
now, and He won't give Himself away. I 
don't grumble ; 1 guess He'll do what's best. 
But if He sees fit to keep the Caspian away 
from our tow-rope, there's one man on this 
little paddle-boat never going to see dry mud 
again, and that's old Michael Power,' 1 

" By gum ! " said Joist, with a scared face, 
" you mean business, and no mistake. But 

1 1 


■ IV 1 1 K N 1H RV QWtM^t Si!, tifc'l tUoK ED CtiLY ' 




what about the rest of us ? I'm not desperate 
like that myself." 

" When this tug gives over looking for the 
Caspian, my lad, you may do as you like," 
said Power ; " I shall not be on hand to 
interfere." And he raised the binoculars 
again and began to peer through the haze 
which limited the cold horizon. 

Days came and days went, some of 
them heavy with gale and some of them 
dense with snowstorm ; and when it was 
clear enough to see a thousand yards ahead, 
the green tug quartered that bleak northern 
sea in accurate zig-zags, and when the light 
failed, she lay-to in the trough with banked 
fires, saving coal. Michael Power's clothes 
never left his back ; he rarely ate, he rarely 
slept ; he still more rarely left the little 
yellow, wooden pulpit which stood on the 
flying bridge between the paddle-boxes. And 
the days came and the days went, and the 
crew of the green tug began to grow 
frightened of him. They were sick of being 
knocked about on those inhospitable seas, 
and when they asked questions, he heard 
them like a man in a dream, and answered 
only with a grunt and a growl. But when 
they protested, he looked ugly in a way 
which scared them. Michael Power had 
not been a shipmaster all those years without 
knowing how to drive any hands who might 
be under him. 

Yet the chase was not without interest to 
all on board. The green tug's business had 
been told before she surged out from between 
the Tyne pier-heads. A reward of one 
hundred sovereigns had been promised to the 
man who first was lucky enough to sight the 
derelict, and it was worked for assiduously. 
A boatswain's chair had been slung high up 
on the tug's solitary mast, just above where 
she carried her light, and it was a very rare 
thing when some one of the crew off watch 
was not jockeying this, and staring with all 
his might over the ruffled plains of ocean. 

But at last the discontent of the crew grew 
to a climax. They had a weighty reason for 
discontinuing the search. The bunkers of 
the tug were nearly empty ; barely enough 
coal remained to carry them to the nearest 
port in Norway ; and, once their fuel was 
done, they would drift about helpless till they 
starved. They were far north of all steam 
lanes and ship tracks, and there was no 
chance of being picked up. So they insisted 
on giving up the search and turning then and 
there towards a hospitable coast. 

" We shall find her in two more days," said 
Power; "you'll see. And then we can 

Digitized by GOOQ If 

re-bunker from her. She'd a matter of two 
hundred ton of coal on board when we left 

But even Joist deserted him now. 

" I'm afraid it's no go, captain," he said. 
" We've been looking for her over - long 
already. She's either gone ashore somewhere, 
or else been picked up. And we've got our- 
selves to consider now." 

"Two more days," said Power, "and if I'm 
wrong, you can still get to Hammerfest and 
coal there. The tug's built of wood ; you 
must rip the bulwarks off her and make steam 
on those. Now, be quiet all of you, and get to 
your work. I will not be answered back. 
If you want another argument, it's here," he 
said, and patted a pocket which bulged with 
the outline of a revolver. 

The weary crew dragged themselves off to 
their posts, and Power, white- faced and 
haggard, settled himself down with his elbows 
on the ledge of the yellow pulpit. He 
rubbed his bleared eyes with the back of his 
grimy hand, and with a sigh brought up the 
binoculars. But of a sudden a surge of 
colour came to his face, and his sight grew 
misty with wet He put down the glasses 
and again mopped his eye-sockets with the 
back of his hand ; and then once more he 
peered at the searline. 

"Only one whole stick standing," he 
murmured, " and that's her mainmast ; funnel 
rusty red, and not a drain of smoke coming 
from it. The Lord isn't cruel ; He can't 
have made another like my old beauty." 

He watched on, open-mouthed but silent, 
and then, simultaneously, a shout came from 
the one deck-hand, who was at the wheel 
beside him, and another from a fireman off 
watch, who was riding in the boatswain's 
chair at the masthead. 

"Steamer on the port bow ! " " Wreck to 
lee'ard ! " " It's the Caspian / " " It's my 
money ! " "I saw her first ! " 

Power rose briskly to his feet and put the 
glasses in their box and snapped down the 
lid. " You needn't quarrel over it," he said. 
" I saw her first myself, as it happened, but 
I never heard pleasanter words than what you 
two fellows spoke, and you shall have ^100 
apiece when we get that steamboat tied up 
against a dock wall. Now bear a hand to 
get that litter cleared from the jolly, and 
swing her davits out-board." 

The news spread below. Smoke began to 
billow in greasy coils from the funnel, and 
the paddles beat in quicker time. The 
green tug crawled along with a new industry, 
and the rust-streaked derelict waited sullenly 




in the trough 

till she drew alongside. 

jolly-boat kissed the water; Joist and a 
fi renin n took the oars ; and once more 
Captain Michael Power stood on the deck 
from which Fate had so unkindly shouldered 

The two inferiors looked about them with 
professional appreciation, Power with linger- 
ing affection. The fireman poked his head 
inside the engine-room skylight, and said ; 
"Well, them machines are only fit for the 
scrap-heap, anyway." Joist commented on 
the weight of the seas which had swept 
away boats, bridge, bulwarks, and almost all 
the upper works. 

But Power laughed like a child, and said, 
"Why, there's my old meerschaum lying on 
the chart hou^e floor, and not broken. 
Fancy ! " 

They ran about the Caspian for full an hour, 
observing ; and 
then began a 
spell of savage 
labour which 
was to be con- 
tinued without 
intermission till 
the little green 
tug had berthed 
the great help- 
less, unwieldy 
hulk inside the 
granite harbour 
walls of Aber- 

They had first 
to re-bunker 
the tug from the 
Caspian's store, 
filling the coal 
into bags, and 
ferrying each 
bag across an 
angry sea in a 
cranky, twelve- 
foot boat ; they 
had to get tow- 
ing hawsers 
passed ; and 
then they had 
to still further 
weaken their 
weak crew by 
leaving two 
men on the derelict to steer her with the 
hand-wheel. Gales came clown on them 
in cruel succession and often they made a 
bare twenty miles of headway in the clay. 
The water which came on board froze where 



by LiOOglC 

it fell j and everyone who worked in the open 
got touched with frost-bite. The tug was 
light and tow was heavy : the big ship would 
neither steer nor follow. She sheered curn- 
bersornely, first to this side, and then to 
that, so that the hawser was for ever chafing 
away its parcelling on the arch of the towing 
bridge. Again and again they had to tran- 
ship coal in the tossing jolly-boat, to scour 
the big ship for provisions, to stop and 
repair their own engines. The men on 
deck got covered with salt - water boils ; 
the men below were sick with work and 

The story of that voyage home is one long 
tale of heroic effort, but it need not be told 
in detail here. The professional reader can 
fill it in for himself; to all others it would be 
merely nauseating. But of all the men 
who went through those herculean laliours, 

Michael Power 
stood out con- 
spicuously. It 
was his brain 
which directed 
everything; his 
hand was al- 
ways the first 
to move. He 
never seemed 
to sleep. He 
never tired. 
Nothing was 
too much for 
him. A rosy 
vision dragged 
him on with a 
pull whk:h there 
was no resist- 
ing. He saw 
himself and his 
wife back in 
the old house, 
with new paint 
and the minis- 
ter supping 
with them on 
Sundays as in 
time gone by. 
He saw his 
daughters set 
up in the mil- 
linery business 
of their heart's desire. And he saw his own 
poultry farm in the country, with a man in 
charge, and himself visiting it once daily to 
carry back the produce to South Shields in a 

w S h '- whede Mflnalfrom 




Now, it would be pleasant to chronicle the 
fact that all these aspirations of Captain 
Power's came into actual being with full 
completeness, but truth compels a modifica- 
tion of the tale. When the green tug brought 
her charge within the safe keeping of the 
granite city's port, the crew of sailors were 
more fit for hospital than anything else. 
Indeed, help had 
to be called in to 
berth her ; and 
when the strain 
was taken off him, 
Michael Power 
tumbled down on 
the dirty floor of 
the tug's cabin and 
slept there like a 
man dead for 
twenty-eight con- 
secutive hours. He 
awoke to find hini- 
s e 1 f not only 
famous but rich* 
The Caspian^ be- 
yond the loss of 
her boats and 
superstructure, had 
in reality suffered 
very little. Her 
engines, which 
had been so con- 
temptuously rele- 
gated to " scrap- 
heap " value, could 
be put to rights for 

a couple of hundred pounds. And the 
machinery under hatches, thanks to the 
strong cases in which it was stowed, was as 
good as ever it had been. The ship and 
cargo had officially been considered by 
Lloyd's as totally lost ; his wife, acting on the 
instructions, had bought all up for a song ; 
and now it was all his. In less than a month 
he found himself sole owner of ^2 6,000. 

It was Mrs. Power who lost her head under 
this shower of affluence. She went back to 
the chapel, it is true, but the chapel circle 
looked upon her with suspicion. She could 
not help it, poor woman, but there was no 
mistake about the matter : she was too grand 
for them. And so she Verted to the Estab- 
lished Church (with Michael and the girls in 
her train), and the chapel circle, once so 
much sighed after, now knows them no more. 

They should be entirely happy, and yet I 
am afraid they are not. Michael is a church- 
warden, and his name frequently appears in 

print. The vicar calls and receives sub- 
scriptions and afternoon tea, and they speak 
of him loudly to all their acquaintances as 
a dear and intimate friend, The Miss 
Powers have forgotten all about their 
aspirations in the millinery line, and tell 
strangers that " papa " (Heaven save the 
mark) " used to be in the Navy/' But the 

' j*E- ItKhOON TEA. 

by Google 

vicar, who is a proud man and a married, 
never asks any of the family back to take tea 
with him, and this is a very sore place ; and, 
moreover, the captain of the Black Pearl 
also lives in South Shields, and his wife has 
worked her way up from below into the 
chapel set. That good woman once made 
overtures of friendship to Mrs, Power } which 
were not accepted ; and now, whenever the 
name crops up in conversation, she always 
brings forth a reminiscence of how poor, fat 
old Michael fared when he was third mate 
on that autumn voyage north-about from 

So really the trouble might be said to have 
originated with the Fates which gave Captain 
Power £2 6,000 for his salvage, instead of the 
third of that sum with which he would have 
been very well satisfied ; and one is driven 
to the conclusion that the Fates want regulat- 
ing. As they work at present, they are far 
too impulsive in their occasional generosity. 

Original from 

The New Telegraphy. 

An Interview with Signor Marconi. 
By H. J. W. Dam. 

YEAR has elapsed since 
Rontgen gave us the new 
photography. To-day, on the 
same general lines, we are 
confronted with something 
more wonderful, more im- 
portant, and more revolutionary still, the 
New Telegraphy. After Rontgen's announce- 
ment that his rays will penetrate certain 
substances at short distances, comes now a 
young Italian to tell us that electric rays or 
waves, generated in a way which he has 
discovered, will penetrate all substances at 
all distances. That, generally speaking, 
telegraphy needs no wires, and that, through 
walls, through houses, through towns, through 
mountains, and, it may possibly even happen, 
that through the earth, we can send despatches 
to any distance, the only apparatus needed 
being a sender and a receiver, the com- 
munication taking place by means of electric 
waves in the ether. 

Before proceeding to describe this gentle- 
man and the scientific indorsements which 
give the fullest weight to his words, it is 
advisable, in order that all the readers of this 
Magazine may understand the nature of the 
inventions, to say a few words about the 
ether. It is further advisable, from the fact 
that the ether is the great scientific field of 
the immediate future, and the certainty that 
for fifty years to come the word which will 
oftenest appear in the accounts of new and 
astonishing scientific discoveries will be this 
familiar name of something which has long 
been one of the deepest of the scientific 

The English language uses the word ether 
in two totally different senses. The first is 
as the name of a colourless liquid easily 
vaporized, whose vapour is used to allay pain. 
This liquid has nothing whatever to do with 
the subject, and should be put entirely 
out of the mind. The second use of the 
word is as the name of a substance, colour- 
less, unseen, and unknown, we will say — 
except in a theoretical sense — which is sup- 
posed to fill all space. The original con- 
ception of this substance is as old as Plato's 
time. Newton, Descartes, all the beacon 
lights of science through the ages, have 
assumed its existence, and all modern physical 
students accept it. The ether theory of the 
formation of worlds must be familiar to many. 
In fact, up to twenty years ago, as the men of 

VoL xiiL— 36. 

by LiOOgle 

to-day who were then at the Universities will 
remember, the word ether was a familiar 
name, a harmless necessary conception, a 
great convenience in bridging a tremendous 
void in science which nobody knew anything 
about, or ever would know anything about, 
so far as could then be seen. 

But the electrical advance in the last 
twenty years has been most extraordinary. 
Invention and experiment have daily, if not 
hourly, thrown open new doors in the 
electrical wing of the Temple of Truth. 
And now, at the close of the nineteenth 
century, the great mass of new facts con- 
cerning light, electricity, inaudible sound, 
invisible light, and the Lenard and Rontgen 
rays ; the eager inquiry, based upon new 
discoveries, into the properties of living 
matter, crystallization, the transference of 
thought, and the endeavour to establish 
scientifically the truth of certain great 
religious concepts — all the special sciences 
thus represented, marching abreast of one 
another along the old Roman Road of 
Science, which leads no one knows whither, 
have come upon a great high wall, blocking 
the way completely in all directions. 

It is an obstacle which must be conquered 
in whole or in part before science can go 
any farther. And upon the wall, as upon 
the wall in the palace of Babylon, is a strange 
and as yet unintelligible inscription, the 
mysterious word "ether." What new and 
great discoveries lie beyond this wall no one 
knows, but more than one high authority 
believes that these discoveries will startle the 
twentieth century more greatly than the 
nineteenth has been startled. We know 
from the history of science in the past, and 
from the excellence of its tools in the present, 
that the wall will be at least partly surmounted 
before very long. Until that happy event, how- 
ever, we can only fold our hands and wait 

To suggest, ip the crudest possible fashion, 
how ether is at present regarded by scientists, 
let the reader imagine that the whole universe, 
to the uttermost stars, is a solid mass of 
colourless jelly. That, in this colourless 
jelly, the stars, solar systems, and space- 
worlds are embedded like cherries in a mould 
of fruit jelly for the table. That this jelly, 
though it is at present believed to have 
density and rigidity, is so inconceivably thin 
that it soaks completely through all the 
cherries and through everything upon them. 




That the minute atoms composing the 
cherries are so large when compared with 
the thinness of the jelly, that each atom is 
surrounded by the jelly just as the whole 
cherry is surrounded. That, in short, the 
jelly is continuous, without a point in the 
whole universe at which there is' a single 
break in its continuity. That, consequently, 
if we tap the glass containing the jelly on the 
table, a quiver will run through the jelly 
completely. The cherries will not quiver, 
but the quiver will run through them — the 
jelly which has soaked through them carrying 
the quiver through them as easily as through 
the spaces between the cherries. That, in 
short, this jelly or ether is a universal sub- 
stance so thin that it permeates through 
everything in space and on earth— glass, 
stone, metal, wood, flesh, water, and so on ; 
and that it is only by its quivering — by means 
of the waves in it, that light rays, electric 
rays, and Rontgen rays, excite — that all these 
rays are enabled to travel and produce their 
various results. 

Light enables us to see. But all the light 
which comes to us from any object, and 
enables us to see that object, comes by way 
of waves in the ether. These light waves 
pass through glass, that is, the wave continues 
right through the glass in the ether which 
lies between the particles of glass. From 
causes yet undefined, the ether carries light 
rays through certain substances, but will not 
carry Rontgen rays through those substances. 
Rontgen rays, on the other hand, are carried 
through substances which stop light Electric 
rays, or electric rays of a low rate of 
vibration, differ in some respects from both 
light and Rontgen rays in the substances 
which they can traverse. Electric rays of 
high oscillation show other differences still. 
Other classes of rays or waves which remain 
to be discovered, and which will also have 
different properties, will doubtless be found 
to receive different treatment from the ether, 
the sum and substance of the whole matter 
being that the comparatively new research 
for new rays has now concentrated the whole 
scientific world's attention on the ether, and 
that its different treatment of different rays 
affords to-day a means of studying the ether 
that has never been enjoyed before. 

The density of the ether has been calcu- 
lated from the energy with which the light 
from the sun strikes the earth. As there are 
twenty-one ciphers after the decimal point 
before the figures begin, its density is, of 
course, less than anything we can imagine. 
From its density its rigidity has been 

Digitized by LrGOglC 

calculated, and is also inconceivably small. 
Nevertheless, with this small rigidity and 
density, it is held to be an actual substance, 
and is believed to be incompressible, for 
the reason that otherwise it would not 
transmit waves in the way it does. As it is 
believed to fill all the inter-planetary space, 
many rhost profound and searching experi- 
ments have been made to determine whether, 
as the earth moves in its orbit through space 
at the rate of nineteen miles per second, it 
passes through the ether as a ship goes 
through the water, pressing the ether aside, or 
whether the ether flows through the earth as 
water flows through a sieve forced against it 
Through the elusive character of the substance, 
however, none of these expleriments have as 
yet produced any very satisfactory results. 
It has been found, however, that the ether 
inclosed in solid bodies is much less free in 
transmitting waves than the ether in the air. 
Thus, glass alone transmits transverse vibra- 
tions at the rate of about three miles per 
second. The ether in the glass transmits them 
at a rate 40,000 times greater, or about 1 24,000 
miles per second, while the ether in the air 
transmits theiri at the rate of 192,000 miles 
per second. The reason why the ether in 
the glass and other solids transmits more 
slowly than that outside, is a mystery; 
but the whole subject is as yet one of 
many mysteries. Ether waves are at present 
variously named as heat waves, light waves, 
Hertz waves, Lenard waves, Rontgen waves, 
etc., and the most evident differences between 
these different kinds, so far as they have been 
investigated, consist in different lengths of 
wave and the varying number of vibrations 
per second. Heat waves are believed to be 
vibrations of the ether, whose number per 
second lies between 200 and 400 billions. 
Light waves lie between 400 and 800 billions 
per second, the longer and slower ones pro- 
ducing in the eye the sensation of red, and 
the colour scale mounting, as the number of 
vibrations mounts, through the yellows, greens, 
and blues to the violets. 

The human eye is not sensibly impressed 
by vibrations below 400 billions per second 
or above 800 billions. These are the waves 
of what is called invisible light, just as 
vibrations of the air, above and below certain 
limits, do not impress the ear and constitute 
the waves of. inaudible sound. The Rontgen 
waves are at present supposed to be above 
800 billions. Doctor Bose, the Calcutta 
scientist, has been working with short 
electric waves, say, from a quarter to half an 
inch in length, and a vibration of fifty 




millions per second. Marconi has been 
employing much longer waves whose 
vibrations were 250 millions per second 
These are simply a suggestion of the 
gathered facts which have now, as said 
before, placed science in a position to more 
hopefully attack the mystery of the ether. 

leaving Sir Isaac Newton's suggestions 
and the theories of other writers out of the 
question, electric waves may perhaps be jsaid 
to have been discovered by an American 
scientist, Joseph Henry, in the year 1842* 
He discovered that when he threw an electric 

amount of interest in and experimental 
investigation of electrical phenomena therein, 
it has been left to a young Italian, Guglielmo 
Marconi, to conceive what might be done 
with electric waves, and to invent instru- 
ments for doing it. 

Marconi's story wilt be told with the 
utmost simplicity and care* But it sounds 
like a fairy tale, and if it had not for a back- 
ground a committee of engineers represent- 
ing the British Army, the British Navy, the 
British Post Office, and the British Light- 
house Service, which are now investigating 




spark, an inch long, on a wire circuit in a 
room at the top of his house, electrical action 
was instantly set up in another wire circuit in 
his cellar There was no visible means of 
communication between the two circuits, and 
after studying the matter he announced his 
belief that the electric spark set up some 
kind of an action in the ether which passed 
through two floors and ceilings, each fourteen 
inches thick, and caused induction — set up 
what is called an induced current — in the 
wires in the cellar 

The fact of induction is now one of the 
simplest and most common-place phenomena 
in th^ work of electricians. Edison has 
already used it in telegraphing to a flying 
railway train. Hertz, the great German 
investigator, developed the study of these 
waves, and announced, in i388, that they 
penetrated wood and brick, but not metal. 
Strange to say, however, considering all the 
brilliant electricians in the more Western 
countries of to-day^ and the enormous 

Digitized by Ot 

it, it might well be doubted. As it is, the 
imagination loses itself, in the face of 
Marconi's experiments, in trying to conceive 
what indefinite marvels and miracles may 
soon be produced by the new power which 
has been put into human hands. 

By a not unnatural misconception, the 
fame of having discovered the new telegraphy 
has been awarded indirectly to the Calcutta 
scientist just mentioned, Doctor Jagadis 
Chunder Bose, the Professor of Physical 
Science in the Presidency College at 
Calcutta, Doctor Bose, whose great and 
valuable work in the study of electric waves 
appears in the records of the Royal Society, 
and his recent address to the British Associa- 
tion, is certainly the last man in the world to 
seek unmerited fame or the honours of dis- 
covery where no discovery lies. He assured 
the writer that he has no interest in what 
is called the u new telegraphy, 1 ' and that 
nothing could be more painful to him than 
the sensational aspect of researches on his 




part which had for their sole object the 
assistance of scientific investigation, and 
could be properly appreciated by men of 
science alone. 

Guglielmo Marconi, whose name will 
doubtless be often heard in the years 
which lie before us, is a young Anglo- 
Italian. He was born in Bologna, Italy, 
and will be twenty-two years old next April. 
His father is an Italian gentleman of 
independent means, and his mother an 
English lady connected with several well- 
known English families. He is a tall, 
slender young man, who looks at least 
thirty, and has a calm, serious manner and a 
grave precision of speech which further give 
the idea of many more years than are his. 
He is completely modest, makes no claims 
whatever as a scientist, and simply says that 
he has observed certain facts and invented 
instruments to meet them ; but the facts and 
the instruments are so new, that the attention 
they are at present exciting is extraordinary. 

This attention is largely due to the enter- 
prise and shrewdness of Mr. W. H. Preece, 
the able chief of the Electrical Department of 
the British Postal System. Marconi's inven- 
tion is a year old, but he could obtain no 
satisfactory recognition of it in his own 
country. Mr. Preece, however, had for a 
long time been at work upon the problem of 
telegraphing through the air where wires were 
not available. I^ast year the cable broke 
between the mainland and the Island of Mull. 
By setting up lines of wire opposite each other 
on the two coasts, he was enabled to telegraph 
by induction quite successfully over the water 
and through the air, the distance being four 
miles and a half. He sent and received in 
this way 156 messages, one of them being 
120 words in length. Ordinary Morse signals 
were used, the despatches being carried by 
the ether in the air. 

In a late lecture at Toynbee Hall, Mr. 
Preece admitted that Marconi's system, which 
is electro-static, far surpassed his own, which 
is electro-magnetic. He expressed the fullest 
faith in Marconi, describing his inventions as 
new and beautiful, scientifically speaking, and 
added that he (Mr. Preece) had been in- 
structed by the Postal Department to spare 
no expense in testing them to the fullest 
degree. It will be understood, therefore, 
that it was due to Mr. Preece that Marconi 
has received the fullest recognition in England, 
and that engineers from different departments 
of the Government are now supervising his 

Marconi was educated at Leghorn, Florence, 

by V_ 



and Bologna, and has more recently been 
following his special study at his home in 
the last-named city. He speaks English 
perfectly, and said, in his London home, in 
Westbourne Park : — 

"For ten years I have been an ardent 
amateur student of electricity, and for two 
years or more have been working with 
electric waves on my father's estate at 
Bologna. I was usfng the Hertz waves from 
an apparatus, which you may photograph, a 
modified form of the apparatus for exciting 
electric waves, as used by Hertz. My work 
consisted mainly in endeavouring to determine 
how far these waves would travel in the air 
for signalling purposes. In September of 
last year, working a variation of my own of 
this apparatus, I made a discovery." 

" What was the discovery ? " 

" I was sending waves through the air and 
getting signals at distances of a mile or 
thereabouts, when I discovered that the 
wave which went to my receiver through the 
air was also affecting another receiver which 
I had setup on the other side of a hill. In 
other words, the waves were going through 
or over the hill." 

" Do you believe that the waves were 
going through the hill ? " 

" That is my present belief, but I do not 
wish to state it as a fact I am not certain. 
The waves either went through the hill or 
over it. It is my belief, based on many 
later experiments, that they went through." 

" And what was the thickness of the hill?" 

" Three-quarters of a mile." 

"And you could send a despatch with 
Morse signals through this hill or over it to 
someone on the other side ? " 

" With ease." 

" What followed ? " 

"What followed was the conception and 
completion of my special invention, the 
instruments I have been using at Salisbury 
Plain in the presence of the Royal Engi- 
neers. I find that while Hertz waves have 
but a very limited penetrative power, another 
kind of waves can be exerted with the same 
amount of energy, which waves, I am forced 
to believe, will penetrate anything and 

" What is the difference between these and 
the Hertz waves ? " 

" I don't know. I am not a professed 
scientist, but I doubt if any scientist can 
yet tell. I have a vague idea that the 
difference lies in the form of the wave. I 
could tell you a little more clearly if I could 
give you the details of my transmitter and 



2 77 

receiver, These are now being patented, how- 
ever, and I cannot say anything about them." 

u How high an alternation were you 
using ? " 

"About 250 million waves per second." 

" Do these waves go farther in air than 
Hertz waves ? " 

" No. Their range is apparently the same, 
The difference is in penetration. Hertz 
waves are stopped by metal and by water, 
These others appear to penetrate all sub- 
stances with equal ease. Please remember 
that the amount of exciting energy is the 
same. The difference is in the way they are 
excited. My receiver will not work with the 
Hertz transmitter, and my transmitter will 
not work with the Hertz 
receiver, It is a new 
apparatus entirely. Of 
course, the waves have 
an analogy with the 
Hertz waves, and are 
excited in the same 
general way. But their 
power is entirely dif- 
ferent, When I am 
at liberty to lay my 
apparatus and the 
phenomena I have oh- 
served before the 
scientists there may be 
some explanation, but 
I have been unable to 
find any as yet." 

" How far have you 
sent a telegraphic des- 
patch on the air?" 

"With a small ap- 
paratus we have sent 
them a mile and three- 
quarters. We got results 
at two miles, but they 
were not entirely satis- 
factory. This was at 

Salisbury Plain, across a shallow valley 
between low hills." 

u What battery were you using ? M 

"An eight -volt battery of three amperes, 
four accumulators in a box." 

** Did you use a reflector ? " 

"Yes* It was a roughly made copper 
parabolic reflector with a mistake of an inch 
in the curve. I shall not use one in future, 
however A reflector is of no value," 

"Nora lens?" 

"Nora lens," 

"Why not?" 

"Because the waves I speak of penetrate 
everything and are not reflected or refracted," 

MR. W, H. FkEE£E T C.B., F.R.S. 
From a PhotQ. bjf Elliott rfr Ftu. 


After Professor Rontgen's distances of a 
few yards and limitations as to substances, 
this was rather stunning. Marconi, however, 
was entirely serious and visibly in earnest in 
his statement 

" How far have you verified this belief? " 
" Not very far, but far enough, I think, to 
justify the statement Using the same 
battery and my transmitter and receiver, we 
sent and received the waves at the General 
Post Office Building, through seven or eight 
walls, over a distance of one hundred yards " 
"How thick were the walls?" 
"I can't say. You know the building, 
however. It is very solidly constructed," 
"And you sent an ordinary telegraphic 
despatch by those 
signals ? n 

" No. We did not do 
that, though we could 
have done so. We were 
working w i t h agreed 
signals, and we ob- 
tained the taps which 
we sought and repeated 
them till there was no 
room for doubt" 

" Do you think that 
sitting in this room 
you could send a des- 
patch across London 
to the General Post 
Office ? ■ 

" With instruments 
of the proper size and 
power, I have no doubt 
about it." 

"Through all the 
houses ? " 

We were in a draw- 
ing-room in West- 
bourne Park, n distance 
of about four and one- 
half miles from the General Post Office. 

"And how far do you think a despatch 
could thus be sent ? " 
"Twenty miles," 

"Why do you limit it to twenty miles?" 
"I am speaking within practical limits, 
and thinking of the transmitter and receiver 
as thus far calculated. The distance depends 
simply upon the amount of the exciting 
energy, and the dimensions of the two 
conductors from which the wave proceeds." 

"What is the law of the intensity at a 
given distance ? " ■ 

"The same as the law of light, inversely 
as the square of the distance." 




of the lighthouse and also its 

This means that, whatever the energy with 
which the waves are sent out, their power at 
say 20ft, when compared with their power 
at 1 oft, would be in the proportion of 
10 times 10 to 20 times 20, or one-fourth 
in those special instances. 

" Do you think they are waves of invisible 
light ? " 

" No, in some respects their action is very 

"Then you think these waves may possibly 
be used for electric lighthouses when fog 
prevents the passage of light ? " 

" I think they will ultimately be so used. 
A constant source of electrical waves instead 
of a constant source of light waves, and a 
receiver on the vessel, would indicate the 

" But would not the fog interfere with the 
passage of the waves ? " 

"Not at all." 

"Nor metal?" 

" Nothing affects them. My experience of 
these waves leads me to believe that they will 
go through an ironclad." 

"Concerning the size of the apparatus. 
How large is it ? " 

" The transmitter and receiver we have 
been using at Salisbury Plain and at the Post 
Office are each about " — he held up his hands 
to indicate the dimensions — "say, 15m. by 
ioin. by 8in. Small ones, effective enough 
for short distances, can be made of half that 

" What are you working on at present ? " 

" Mr. Preece and I are working at Penarth, 
in Wales, to establish regular communication 
through the air from the shore to a lightship. 
This will probably be the first direction in 
which my apparatus is utilized, communica- 
tion with the lightships. The lightships lie 
off this coast at any distance from half a mile 
to twenty miles or more." 

" What length of waves have you used ? " 

" I have tried various lengths from 30 
metres down to ioin." 

" Why would not these waves be useful in 
preventing the collision of ships in a fog ? " 

" I think they will be made use of for 
that purpose. Ships can be fitted with the 
apparatus to indicate the presence of another 
ship so fitted within any desired distance. 
As soon as two ships approach each other 
within that distance the alarms will ring on 
each ship, and the direction of the other will 
be indicated by an index." 

" Do you limit the distance over which 
these waves can be sent ? " 

by L^OOgle 

" I have no reason to do so. The pecu- 
liarity of electric waves — which was noted, I 
believe, by Hertz — is the distance they travel 
when excited by only a small amount of 

" Then why could you not send a despatch 
from here to New York, for instance ? " 

" I do not say that it could not be done. 
Please remember, however, that it is a new 
field, and the discussion of possibilities which 
may fairly be called probabilities omits 
obstacles and difficulties which may develop 
in practical working. I do not wish to be 
recorded as saying that anything can actually 
be done beyond what I have already been 
able to do. With regard to future develop- 
ments, I am only saying what may ultimately 
happen ; what, so far as I can now see, does 
not present any visible impossibilities." 

" How large a station would be necessary, 
assuming the practicability, to send a 
message from here to New York ? " 

" A station the size of this room in a 
square area. I don't say how high." 

The room was twenty feet square. 

" What power ? " 

" Fifty or sixty horse power would, I 
think, suffice." 

"What would be the cost of the two 
stations, completed ? " 

" Under ten thousand pounds, I think." 

" Would the waves go through the ether 
in the air or through the earth ? " 

" I cannot say with certainty. I only 
believe they would go that distance and be 

"You say that no lens or reflector is of 
value. Then the waves would go outward 
in all directions to all places at the same 
distance as New York ? " 


" Do you think that no means will ever be 
found to stop this progress in all directions 
and concentrate it in one direction ? " 

" On the contrary, I think that invention 
will give us that." 

" Do you see any way of accomplishing 

" No. Not as yet." 

" In what other directions do you expect 
your invention to be first utilized ? " 

" The first may be for military purposes, in 
place of the present field telegraph system. 
There is no reason why the commander of 
an army should not be able to easily com- 
municate telegraphically with his subordinate 
officers without wires over any distance up to 
twenty miles. If my countrymen had had 
my instruments at Massowah, the reinforce- 




ments could have been easily summoned in 

** Would the apparatus be bulky ? " 

u Not at all. A small sender and receiver 
would suffice." 

u Then why would it not be equally useful 
for the admiral of a fleet in communicating 
with his various ships ? " 

11 It would," said Marconi, with some 

44 Is there any difficulty about that?" 

* ( Yes 3 " said he, very frankly, but in a way 
which set the writer to wondering, " I do 
not know that it is a difficulty yet, but it 
appears to be/' 

The writer pondered the matter for a 
moment. Then he 
asked : — 

" Dtd you ever try 
exploding gunpow T der 
by electric waves ? " 

" Could you not from 
this room explode a box 
of gunpowder placed 
across the street in that 
house yonder ? " 

" Yes. If I could put 
two wires or two plates 
in the powder, I could 
set up an induced cur- 
rent which would cause 
a spark and explode it" 

" At what distance 
have you exploded gun- 
powder by means of 
electric waves ? " 

lt A mile and a half. 
This was not directly 
by means of the waves. 
They simply upon 
reaching the receiver set loose a stronger 
current, which produced the explosion," 

M But could you have exploded it by the 
direct action of the waves ? " 

"Yes. But it would require much more 
energy than I was using." 

"Then if you threw electric waves upon 
an ironclad, and there happened to be two 
nails or wires or plates in the powder 
magazine which were in a position to set 
up induction, you could explode the magazine 
and destroy the ship ? " 


"And the electric lighthouses we are 
speaking of might possibly explode the 
magazines of ironclads as far as light from a 
lighthouse could he seen ? " 

"That is certainly a possibility. It would 

depend on the amount of the exciting 


the difficulty about 
instruments for fleet purposes- 

using your 


(Inventor of the Hertz Transmitter.) 

Reproduced &y p*m\ut§i#n 0/ the " tfltftririnv* ■ Printing 

ami PubHtking Go., Limited. 

"The fear has been expressed that in using 
the instruments oil an ironclad the waves might 
explode the magazine of the ship itself." 

It is perhaps unnecessary to say that this 
statement was simply astounding. It is so 
much of a possibility that electric rays can 
be used to explode the magazine of an 
ironclad, that the question has already been 
raised by the Royal Engineers. Of all the 
coast defences ever dreamed of, the idea of 
exploding ironclads by electric waves from 
the shore and over distances equal to 
modern cannon ranges 
is certainly the most 
terrible possibility yet 

Such are the astonish- 
ing statements and views 
of Marconi. What their 
effect will be remains to 
be seen. Considering 
the many able experi- 
mentalists of to-day, 
and their admirable and 
original equipments, like 
Tesla's dynamos, the 
imagination abandons 
as a hopeless task the 
attempt to conceive 
what — in the use of 
electric waves- — the im- 
mediate future holds in 
store. The air is full 
of promises of miracles. 
Strange results appear to 
be coming, and coming 
comparatively soon. 
Because, underlying the possibilities of the 
known electric waves and of new kinds of 
electric waves which seem to be numerous 
and various, underlying these is still the 
mystery of the ether. Here is a field which 
offers to those college students of to-day who 
have already felt the fascination of scientific 
research, a life - work of magical and 
magnificent possibilities, a virgin, unexplored 
diamond-field of limitless wealth in knowledge. 
Science knows so little, and seems in one 
sense to have been at a standstill for so 
long. Lord Kelvin said sadly in an address 
at Glasgow the other day, that though he had 
studied hard through fifty years of ex- 
perimental investigation, he could not help 
feeling that he really knew no more as he 
spoke than he knew fifty years before. 




Now, however, it really seems that some 
Columbus will soon give us a new continent 
in science. The ether seems to promise 
fairly and clearly a great and new epoch in 
knowledge, a great and marked step forward, 
a new light on all the great problems, which 
are mysteries at present, with perhaps a 
correction and revision of many accepted 
results. This is particularly true of the 
mystery of living matter, and that something 
which looks so much like consciousness in 
certain non-living matter, the property which 
causes and enables it to take the form of 
regular crystals. Crystallization is as great a 
problem as life itself, but from its less number 
of conditions will perhaps be easier and 
earlier attacked. 

The best conception of living matter which 
we have at present, completely inadequate 
though it be, is that of the most chemically 
complex and most unstable matter known. 
A living man as compared to a wooden 
man responds to all kinds of impulses. Light 
strikes the living eye, sound strikes the living 
ear, physical and chemical action are in- 
stantly and automatically started, chemical 
decomposition takes place, energy is dissi- 
pated, consciousness occurs, volition follows, 
action results, and so on through the 
infinity of causes and infinity of results 
which characterize life. The wooden 
man is inert. There is no chemical or 
physical action excited by any impulse 
from without or within. Living matter is 
responsive, non-living is not. The key to 
the mystery, if it ever comes, will come from 
the ether. One great authority of to-day, 
Professor Oliver Lodge, of the University of 
Liverpool, has already stated his belief that if 
the ether and electricity are not one and the 
same, the truth will ultimately be found to 
be near that statement. If this be true, it 
will be a great, a startling key to the now 
fathomless mystery of life. 

So also with regard to that question which 
is the field of so much inquiry in the 
Psychical Societies of England and America, 
the transference of thought. Thus far there 
is no experimental basis on which one can 
definitely say that an impulse from one 
brain affects another over indefinite distance. 
The belief that there are such things as 
thought waves is, however, held by many 
intelligent thinkers, and as soon as someone 
appears who is ingenious enough to subject 
the human brain to mathematical conditions, 
the silent influence of brain on brain may 
not only be established as a fact, but measured 
in its extent 

by Google 

If thought waves exist they are unques- 
tionably ether waves, and in this connection 
the latest work of Doctor Ramon y Cajal, 
the world's greatest authority on brain action, 
is full of interest. He has come to the con- 
clusion that the communication between the 
brain-cells does not take place by conduction, 
but by induction. Nerves, known to be 
excellent electrical conductors, were supposed 
to bind all the thought-cells into a related 
dynamic whole, but it now seems as if the 
impulses flashed from cell to cell instead 
of being conducted, and the corollary is 
certain to be suggested — if they flash 
from cell to cell, why not from brain to 
brain ? 

And so, too, with the deeper and higher 
mysteries of post-mortem human conditions. 
Faith needs no facts to support it, but 
scepticism is as old as religion, and the 
conflict between them is as natural as life 
itself. The great concepts of religion are 
felt to be true, and it is the natural desire 
and effort of many minds to prove them 
true by the ordinary methods of proof. Man 
and the microbe seem to be disturbingly 
equal in importance, when viewed from the 
infinite, the absolute standpoint, but man 
will never submit to this apparent equality, 
and man will never rest till he has proved 
it false. In the ether the secret lies, and the 
present prospect is that only from the study 
of the ether is this desired proof likely to 

And, with regard to this great study of the 
future, perhaps no better words could be 
quoted as a conclusion to this article than 
those of Professor Lodge. He said, in 
closing a lecture upon a closely allied subject 
at the Royal Institution : — 

"The present is an epoch of astounding 
activity in physical science. Progress is 
a thing-' of months and weeks, almost of 
days. The long lines of isolated ripples 
of past discovery seem blending into 
a mighty wave, on the crest of which 
one begins to discern some oncoming 
magnificent generalization. The suspense 
is becoming feverish, at times almost 
painful. One feels like a boy who has 
been long strumming on the silent key- 
board of a deserted organ, into the chest of 
which an unseen power begins to blow a 
vivifying breath. Astonished, he now finds 
that the touch of a finger elicits a responsive 
note, and he hesitates, half-delighted, half- 
affrighted, lest he be deafened by the chords 
which it seems he can now summon almost 
at his will." 

Original from 


Portraits of Celebrities at Different Times of their Lives. 

LEES, D.D., LL.D. 

Born 1854. 

AGE 25. 
Prom a Photograph. 

LL.D.. is the. son of 
the Rev. John Lees, M.A., 
sometime secretary to the 

§U [>.!)., 

ACiE 35, 

Frrm « Phato. bit Wm. Brown* PaUlcfr 

Royal Caledonian Asylum, London, 
After Dr. Cameron Lees had received 
his education in I>ondon and at the 
Universities of Glasgow and Aberdeen, 

he entered the ministry of the Church of 


Scotland, was parish minister of Carnock, 
Ross-shire, from 1856 to 1859, when he was 
appointed to the important charge of the 
Abbey of Paisley, Thence, in 1877, he 
came to St- Giles s, Edinburgh, the ancient 
parish church and cathedral of the city* He 
became Chaplain in Ordinary to the Queen 
in 18 78, and Dean of the Chapel Royal of 
Scotland, and Dean of the most Ancient and 
Honourable Order of the Thistle in 1886. 
During his incumbency, St. Giles has been 
restored, and its service made attractive. Dn 
Cameron Lees is well known in Scotland as 
a preacher, writer, and leader in public affairs. 

R>->1 V I" DAY. 

Vol. jeLLL-30 

Vrom a V ] AoLju Aj ,/, JftftTui, Ettinburgh. 





Born 1851. 


0^5?l ]S we " known, has devoted the 

^^i^iP 1 S renler P art of '^ s '^ e to fc ' le P ur " 
g^^ ^gj suits of science. From University 

College, London, he proceeded to 
Cains College, Cambridge, where he graduated 

in the Natural 
Science Tripos, 
his tastes tend- 
ing rather to- 
wards physical 
science than 
pure mathe- 
matics, A 
thorough theo- 

m/twr retical know 

ycVf ledge did not 

satisfy him, and 
he visited work- 
shops, worked 
with the men, 
and thus gained a deep insight into the 
practical part of his profession, * Moreover, 
his uncle, the late Sir David Salomons, 
Bart*, the first Jewish Lord Mayor of London, 
provided him with a laboratory where he 
could study the subjects in which he was so 

From a] 

AOK T$. [riu'(rvr tt} A 

From a I 


deeply interested. Sir David is ? perhaps, 
as well - remembered for his distinctive 
attitude on the " Woman's Rights " question 
by his t; Address to the Ladies of England," 
which was the means of opening several new 
fields for female employment, as for his 
scientific achievements and his many success- 
ful inventions. He is the author of many 
scientific papers, which he has read before 

scientific assemblies. Sir David has worked 
hard as a county magistrate, being a J, P. for 
Kent, Sussex, Middlesex, Westminster, and 
London: has been several times elected 
Mayor of Tunhridge Wells; is an Associate 
of the Institute of Civil Engineers ; Manager 
of the Royal Institution of (ireat Britain; 
and is, of course, highly connected with many 
other prominent scientific societies and 
institutions. Sir David Ikis recently taken 
great interest 111 what may now be called the 
great motor car movement. 


,.,.. , ,.,. , ,., Vi 




Y sheer hard work and varied 
talent, combined with great per- 
sonal attrac- 
tions, Miss Alma 
Stanley has won 

for herself a place in the 

foremost ranks of In t pro- 
fession. To look at Miss 

Stan ley T one is astonished 

to hear that she made her 

dibut on the stage in 1873, 

at the Theatre Royal, Hull, 

in the tragedy of 41 hucrezia 

Borgia,' 1 She must, in- 
deed, have commenced 

very young ! She was an 

earnest student from 

the start, and having 

made a beginning, 

she never let any- 

keenest satisfaction — a visit to America, where 
her success was a record one. She made her 
first appearance in farcical comedy, appearing 
at a matinee in *' The Two 
Johnnies." After engage- 
ments with Messrs. Wynd- 
ham, Alexander, Edwardes, 
and the late Sir Augustus 
Harris, Miss Stanley suffered 
from a very severe illness. She 
fortunately recovered, and 
made her at 
the Avenue, 

from H FHvtty. hff 

Fink. Osjiwi St, 

JVo« a Photo, h* Henry A'nwAf, #(.. J/pun i>I inn -Sea. 

thing stand in the way of her steady ad- 
vancement Her third engagement was at 
Cremorne, in " Black-Eyed Susan." Then 
the astute John Hollingshend recognised her 
talents, and engaged her till March, 1878, 
In 1879 she joined the banner of Kate 
Santley at the Royalty, her next part being 
that of Adimis in £ * Venus and Adonis/' and 
then came a most important move, and one 
on which Miss Stanley looks bark with the 

AGR 16. 
From a I'kiiio. by 

} .1 >tu\ a 




AGE 7* ACE S, 


Mir/a H ossein Khan are two of 
the sons of His Excellency tho 
dfe^?^L |j Persian Minister. They have 
been carefully educated, and 
though only thirteen and fourteen years ot 
age, speak three languages fluently — Persian, 


Fwm a I'hulo. by The London Sierto&copk (.'uphj any. 

mechanics; and Prince Hossem has de- 
veloped his artistic talents in a marked 
degree for one so young. 

Mifi i%* AGJ-: %*£. 

From a Pht*to. by The Istndon Sttrtotrvpic Company, 

English, and French. They are also excellent 
musirians ; the piano being their favourite 
instrument. Prince Mohammed is interested 
in and has a considerable knowledge of 


Football in Armour. 

By Charles Emerson Cook, 

[From FkQfojpiipks specially taken in ihe United Stales for Geargz Newnes 3 Ltd.] 


Uy ooufitng of " f he $i*ortmHmi*i 

HE game of foot- 
ball in the 
United States 
is confined 
almost exclu- 
sively to the colleges 
-baseball being the 
national sport. On 
account of the climate 
the season is short. 
It begins when the 
ol leges open in Sep- 
tember, and ends with 
the ist of December* 
Yet in that short 
two months, popular 
enthusiasm runs 
strong, and the 
armoured knights of 
the football field fill 
the public eye* 

There are naturally 
many differences between football as played 
in England and America ; but to the 
spectator* to whom the game means chiefly 
the reaching, by one team, of its opponent's 
goal, and who enjoys aspects and effects 
rather than signs and 
causes, the conspicuous 
disadvantage of the 
American game is in the 
point of roughness. The 
highest American authority, 
Mr, Walter Camp, explains 
that the feature of the 
American game, in distinc- 
tion from the English, is 
"the outlet of the scrim- 
mage," or, as it is called in 
England, the ''scrum." 

An equally vital differ- 
ence, and one of much 
more recent development, 
appears in what is called 
" interference." This is 
the assistance given to a 
runner by one or several 
companions who go before 
and break a path for him, 

or who shoulder off would-be tacklers. To 
an Englishman this is the most unpardonable 
kind of offside play, not to be tolerated 
for an instant upon any field. In America, 
however, it is of first importance. Inter- 
ference properly developed demands some- 
thing from nearly every player. There are 
eleven men on each side, and of the twenty- 
two men on the field, I should say that twenty 
are expected to take a part in every play. 
So that when a runner is tackled and thrown, 
there at once rises above him a pyramid of 
writhing humanity, conspicuous for its scarcity 
of heads and its abundance of legs. Every 
man of the opposing team has dropped on 
him in order to forbid his progress, and every 
man of his own eleven, in the endeavour to 
pull off the others, becomes mixed in the 
scrimmage and buried in the mass. Then, 
at a shriek from the referee's whistle, the 
players subtract themselves from the human 
pile, with the possible exception of the 
man underneath. He may be waiting a 
second to get his wind ; possibly, in spite 
of his armour, he is more or less severely 

I jet us go with the player to his dressing- 
room and watch his pre- 
paration for the game. 
First comes the jersey ; 
and we notice that the 
vulnerable parts (the 
shoulders and the elbows) 
are heavily padded, Thin 
bandages of woven cotton 
or silk are often worn on 
the wrists, to prevent 
dislocation, and similar 
contrivances are used on 
the ankles, As the 
ankle, however, is liable 
to serious hurt by being 
turned or sprained, the 
player sometimes needs 
a more substantial 
support made of well- 
fitting leather, carefully 
laced and worn under the 



These are the only ban- 
dages in general use, but 
other special bandages are 
ready for special needs, 
One player at some time 
may have suffered a dislo- 
cated knee, and, bearing in 
mind the proverbial " ounce 
of prevention," he provides 
himself with a " knee-cap 
bandage." Another player, 
for like reasons, wears a 
bandage on the forearm or 
the elbow. A third— and 
this man is the rule rather 
than the exception —wears 
a " shoulderoap bandage," 
which is contrived of elastic 
woven silk, is secured by a 
band passing around the 
chest, and is worn next to 
the skin on his weaker 
shoulder, usually the right, 
to prevent dislocation 
during rough push-playing. 

The essentials of leading 
importance, however, in a 
football player's outfit are 
the trousers, the jacket, and 
the shoe. Sometimes the 
trousers and jacket are 
joined at the waist, as is 
shown in the illustrations, 
but more often the gar- 
ments are separate. The trousers especially 
are made with the greatest care, They must 
be fairly loose and of sonic stout material, 
such as fustian or moleskin ; but their special 
feature of defence is the padding. Besides 
the heavy quilting with which the trousers 
are lined, great thicknesses of wadding or 
hair are bunched at the knees or over the 
hips. The thigh, also, is a particularly 
vulnerable part in a rough game, and so is 
often protected by sewing a pair of shin- 
guards, minus the straps, on the inside lining 
of the trousers. 

The football jacket is made of a special 
quality of thick white duck, sewed with the 
stoutest of linen thread. Usually it is sleeve- 
less. It should fit closely, but not too tightly, 
and is sometimes provided with elastic pieces 
set in at the sides, hack, and arms. The 
innovation a few years ago, whereby leather 
suits were used, was made at Harvard ; and 
as such a suit proved not only an excellent 
defence against blows, but also, by reason of 
its smooth and hard surface, made it difficult 
for the opponent to hold the wearer, it was 


highly approved by some 
authorities. But a suit of 
leather is expensive, and, 
in spite of its lightness 
and its advantages in rainy 
weather, it was this expense 
that prevented its general 
adoption by the colleges of 
the United States. 

As a matter of fact, how- 
ever, this ingenious football 
armour, which stern neces- 
sity and American inventive- 
ness have devised, permits 
the roughness while lessen- 
ing the danger. Reports 
from thirty - seven institu- 
tions of learning in the 
United States reveal few 
permanent injuries— a result 
due largely to protective 
armour. In the rules govern- 
ing American football is a 
clause which forbids the 
player to wear projecting 
nails or iron plates on his 
shoes, or to use any metal 
or greasy substance on his 
clothing. The last precau- 
tion was found necessary, 
a few years ago, when some- 
one conceived the idea of 
oiling the players' suits. 
Thus, when it was found 
that the runner could slip easily through the 
grasp of the tackier, the latter overcame the 






difficulty by 
covering his 
hands with resin. 
the ball became 
so coated with 
grease and pitch 
that it would 
stick to the 
player's hands, 
twisting his most M 
careful throws 

and passes into curiously defiant 
curves and tangents. Then, when 
the oiled jacket was ruled out, 
a leather jacket was made to 
take iis place ; but the greatly 
increased cost soon cast that 
Into unpopularity. It will be 
seen, therefore, that the part of 
the rule with which the inventor 
of defensive football armour had 
to contend was that which for- 
bade iron plates on the shoes and 
metal on the clothing. Obviously 
he must procure, for his pur- 
poses j material which would pro- 
tect the player without injuring 
his opponent — a problem simple 
enough as regarded the jacket, the 
trousers, the bandages, the supports 
for waist and ankle, and the head- 
harness, but which, in the making 
of nose-guards, shin-guards, ami 
shoes presented some difficulties. 

Next comes the shoe. This is the most 
important part of the uniform ; consequently 
its evolution, deprived of the use of metal, 
presented the most serious difficulties. But, 
at length, from the primitive canvas-shoe, 
with leather cross-pieces nailed on the sole 
to prevent slipping, was developed a shoe 
made entirely of leather, It is of moderately 
stout materia^ fitting the foot firmly, yet 
comfortably, and lacing well up on the ankle. 
The sole is provided with a small leather 
spike, which can be renewed when worn 
down. Inside this shoe, and either attached 
to the bottom of it or not, as the player 
prefers, is the thin leather anklet which laces 
tightly over the foot, and is an almost sure 
preventive of sprained ankles. 

It was almost a pity that circumstances 

rendered the wearing of the spiked shoe 

necessary. There was no more frequent 

cause of contention between opposing Ameri- 

* can footballers than ** spiking." Several 

ieatheh times within the past ten years serious 

charges have 

been brought 
against various 
members of the 
Harvard and Vale 
teams for brutal 
use of the spikes. 
It was so easy, 
you know, to 
deposit your foot 
upon an oppo- 
nents neck, and 
thh spikep Tho* " seriously injure 

Original from 



him with the brutal nails. The defence was 
usually that it was almost impossible for a 
runner to know where his foot was going 
to land when he floundered in the " scrim- 
mage," and if it happened that somebody's 
cranium got in the way — well, that was 
the mere mishap of the game. Happily, 
however, the leather 
4 * spike 7 ' has changed 
all this. The worst that 
a brutal player can now 
do with his soles is to 
bruise a man, and even 
this practice is heartily 

The shin-guard, with 
its long ribs of rattan 
between two stout 
thicknesses of leather, 
is far less conducive 
to vigorous adjectives 
tha n the nose - guard. 
This hollow mask is 
fastened to the head 
by an elastic band and, ,, 
besides defending the 
nose, is held in the 
mouth as a protection to the teeth. And, being 
made of the finest rubber, the man who is not 
wearing it may punch the nose of the man 
who is without fear of injuring or being 
injured— a strangely childish pastime, you 
will say, but one which, in a hard-fought, 
irritating game, brings with it as great a moral 
satisfaction as in certain emergencies one may 
find in a forcible and timely swear -word 
If the player, however, has friendly con- 
fidence in the resisting powers of his own 
nose, or cultivates a special enmity against 
the man who dares 
hit it, he uses only 
a small rubber 
mouthpiece, which, 
by keeping itself in, 
keeps the dirt out, 
and which is per- 
forated with small 
holes for breathing. 

The finishing 
touch to the defen- 
sive armour worn 
by the player of 
American football 
is the head - har- 
ness ; and when 
we behold him in 
full pride of this 
last disfigurement, 
we thank all the 


5IPB VIE* 0? NOSE-ClTAfct). 


Gmjghr* 1 

gods of the game that American football is 
still confined to American fields. In com- 
bination with nose-mask, shin-guard, and all 
the other paraphernalia, the costume is well 
calculated to strike terror to the heart of a 
hero — not to mention a not over-courageous 
bull-terrier — and an English hull-terrier at 
that- -who, when I ap- 
peared before him in 
full war-paint, let out 
a yelp of dismay and 
disappeared under the 
nearest table. 

Yet, with all its 
aesthetic failings, this 
head-harness is among 
the most valuable 
adjuncts to the football 
armour. It is a com- 
paratively recent device, 
resulting from the fact 
that in past years many 
of the most serious 
injuries have * been to 
the players' heads and 
ears. The old style head- 
harness is specially de- 
signed for protection to the ears, the 
drums of which are peculiarly liable to 
injury in a scrimmage. Under the circular 
pieces of leather, which more than cover 
the ears, and which are perforated with 
holes so as to permit hearing, there are 
ovals of thick padding which surround 
them and rest against the head. These 
protectors are held in place by strips of soft 
leather passing over and around the head 
and under the chin. In the later head- 
harness the leather is heavier and is every- 
where lined with a 
half-inch thickness 
of felting ; so that 
no matter what part 
of the player's head 
strikes the ground, 
it is sure of a soft 
reception. This 
harness, likewise, 
protects the ears 
by a double thick- 
ness of felt-lining. 

There are other 
features to a com- 
plete suit of foot- 
ball armour, such 
as the wire abdo- 
men-protector, the 
leather-shell, and 
*np mouth piEtQfic ITithe corset. The first 







is similar to those used in other out- 
door games. The shell is merely a 
concave piece of leather, well padded, 
and is used only to protect a painful 
bruise. The corset is a cylindrical 
piece of padded leather, and is laced 
about a fractured limb. 

It is but natural that all these fiercely 
grotesque inventions should prompt 
either a frown or a smile from the 
conservative Englishman who, since his 
gentler game of football needs no such 
defences, must regard them either as 
an indication of brutality or as a very 
huge joke. If the last be true he will 
find a ready sympathizer in the ever- 
ready American lampooner. This indi- 
vidual tries to console the football 
captain for the loss* of a generous 
handful of cherished hair, by saying 
that one of the opponents' ears is 
hanging by a shred. " What's an ear 
more or less?" moans the bereaved 
captain, tl I'd give both ears to have 
back that bunch of hair." Or perhaps 
the same wit-vendor will lead you t<i 
an hospital where the assistant is tell- 
ing the house-physician he has just 


admitted an aeronaut who fell 2,000ft., 
and a football-player who got tangled 
up 111 a rush. " I am the only doctor 
not engaged, 3 ' says the assistant ; 
"which shall I attend to first?" Then 
the house - physician waxes wroth. 
" Have I not often told you that in 
a case like thus you must attend to 
the man who is most seriously hurt ? 
The balloon man can wait, of course ! 
Look after the football-player I " And 
then, when the patient has recovered, 
and the doctor tells him football is a 
pastime he must strive to forget, a 
sad, faraway look will come into the 
half-back's eyes. " Forget ! How can a 
man forget when he sees an ambulance 
in every street ? " 

One of the most curious things about 
the American football player is his hair. 
He revels in long and shaggy locks, 
and, during the months of face train- 
ing, it is the habit of the American 
comic artist to picture the head of a 
football player by the side of a highly- 
cultivated chrysanthemum, and then 
calmly challenge you to say which is 
which. But as everyone understands 
that the roughness of the game will 






not admit the wearing of caps, and that the 
head must be protected, the long and 
flowing locks of the footballer are treated 
with respect 

The cost of football armour varies greatly 
with the quality of the material, but it may 
roughly be said that 
a ten-pound note or a 
fifty-dollar bill would 
cover all expenses 
for an up - to - date, 
impregnable outfit. 
When new inventions 
in the details of the 
armour come upon 
the football market* 
the price is slightly 
increased. Some- 
times, in the case of 
final games between 
the big colleges, as 
between Harvard, 
Yale, Princeton, and 
the University of 
Pennsylvania, an 
entirely new outfit is 
provided to each 
player ; and one of 
the great items of 
expense during the 
football season is the 
cost of the armour, 
not only for the 
" 'Varsity " teams, 
but for the substi- 
tutes, and other 

likely players who are too poor to buy the 
outfits themselves. Truly, much money 
seems to be thrown away in changing a good- 
looking athlete into a temporary monstrosity. 

Allowing, however, that the armoured 
American football player does present a some- 
what ludicrous figure, we should still not 
forget that the defensive features of his dress 
are the results of hard study and harder 
experience* The man who sees in them 
only proofs of brutality must be reminded that 

AND MOUTH Mia-]-. 

the player himself is one of the most generous 
and big-hearted fellows alive, always ready with 
sympathy and self-denial. As has been said, 
injuries do occur ; but they are usually the 
result of the player's youth or inexperience, 
or the lack of intelligent precautions and 

proper training, They 
are rarely serious or 
permanent. More- 
over, proper allow- 
ance should be made 
for the American 
spirits which cannot 
comfortably endure 
defeat When an 
American player is 
injured, he himself 
is most largely re- 
sponsible. He is so 
overflowing with 
courage, bravado, or 
whatever else one 
may choose to call 
it — '"sand" is the 
popular word — that 
while he realizes the 
danger, feels the 
hurt, sees the im- 
pending defeat, he is 
all the more ready 
to face the chance, 
to defy the pain, and, 
though at the very 
risk of his life, strive 
with a good heart in 
the belief that defeat 
will yet be turned into victory, While a chance 
remains he is not beaten. Every time he 
comes up smiling* gaining determination from 
every mishap. He regards every one of the 
eleven men on the other side as his personal 
opponent Thus, he multiplies his dangers 
as well as his responsibilities; and when you 
regard his armour, from spiked shoes to head- 
harness, repress that covert smile, and he 
inspired with a feeling of brotherly gladness 
that he is so well defended against himself* 

by Google 

Original from 

HE "Hotel des Touristes " 
was a modest dwelling, a 
simple aufierge for travellers, 
guides, and mules passing 
on towards " Ije Sum met." 
It evidently possessed little 
accommodation, fewer luxuries ; yet its 
appearance pleased me. The brown chalet, 
with its green shutters, was situated on a 
little grassy plateau, half-way down the 
mountain. After the snow-covered heights 
above, and the brown, barren rocks we had 
just passed, the spot had a cooling, restful 
look about it A vague idea suggested 
itself to my mind, 

I paused a moment, and looked before me, 
What a view ! Straight in front, the other 
side of the valley, rose the rocky* grim, cross- 
crowned head of Flegere, alongside, and 
towering some thousand metres above it, was 
the snowy Brevent. The sun was just 
sinking, the reflection in the sky threw a 
crimson stain upon its glistening whiteness. 
Mont Blanc would have been magnificent, 
but I could not see it, as it lay in a line 
parallel to wheie I stood. In the distance, 
however, to my right, the Alps du Valais 
compensated for it ; the evening shadows 

by Google 

Bv Christik Dutton. 

had not yet fallen — there 
they stood, one pure, 
glittering chain of icy 
cones- Never had I seen 
them more exquisitely clear, more 
intensely beautiful 

Immediately below, the fir-clad lower 
portion of my own mountain sloped 
away ; here and there the narrow, 
yellow mule- track peeping out, as 
it corkscrewed downwards. Through the 
valley I could trace the long white road that 
curved to Chamounix; even now it looked 
hot and close ; my vague idea grew into a 

"Josephe, 1 ' I said, turning to my guide, 
M I shall rest here the night" 

" Bon Dieu! n he cried ; " not so, monsieur 
It is the Anniversary ! The day of the 
* Grand Desastre !' Three years ago " 

I smiled "You told me that before. 
Why should there be another avalanche 
to-night ? " 

He shrugged his shoulders. "The moun- 
tain is haunted, they say, monsieur; on these 
nights there is always a fearful storm, and 
voices " 

" A storm on such a night ! " I burst out, 

" But, monsieur, that is the house itself ! " 

" And what happened there ? The 
avalanche did not touch it ? " 

" No — no ! " he shook his head. " But 
the people * 

II What had they to do with it ? * 

Again he shook his head, and a vague 
expression, either ignorance or obstinacy, 
overspread his features. 
Original from 




" I will sacrifice ten francs — woyld 
monsieur mind if I leave?" 

The way down was easy now ; I had had 
enough of ihe heavy, stupid fellow ■ I paid 
him, gave him a pourboire, and sent 
him home. 

In answer to my request the auber- 
giste replied lie had ,\ comfortable bed; 
" Everything was in readiness for monsieur," 
but his manner was hesitating ; he glanced at 
me in an uneasy, wondering way, 

" I know/ 1 I smiled, "it is the anniversary 
night, but we English are not superstitious. 
Will you have me?" 

" Bkn ! n his face brightened ; he was an 
honest, good-looking fellow. "Mais out! 
Adele and I will do our best : we shall be 
delighted to have your company," 

I believed him, for he looked nervous and 

Therg were few people in the cafe, 
and they soon left. I enjoyed my simple 
supper of chicken, salad, and Gruyere, 
but the room was close and cheesy ; the air 
outside had now grown chilly. " Have you 
a private room?" I asked the waiter, the 
only one the hotel possessed. 

There was a door in the side of the tafi: he 
opened it, and showed me into a neat little 
parlour. It was scantily furnished, however, 
and had rather a cold, cheerless appearance. 
The deal floor and pine wood table were 
uncovered ; some cheap ornaments adorned 
a second smaller 
table in the win- 
dow, the usual 
white stove stood 
in a corner of 
the room, but, 
of course, it was 

One thing, 
neither cheap nor 
usual, attracted 
my attention, 
hanging in a 
small glass case 
beside the stove. 
It was a beauti- 
ful silver chate- 
laine of rare 
device — the 
chains fell from 
an elaborately- 
chased lover's 
knot, the bows 
were set with 
opals. There 
were no pictures 

or other ornaments upon the wall, except a 
carved cuckoo clock, which ticked lustily away, 
and two large marble statues of the Virgin, 
which smiled down from their respective 
roomy brackets. I did not feel good enough 
to restrict myself to such society. 

44 Send the matire dfiSttl to me," I 
called back to the garpn* 

Tlie propriktxire arrived* I had a chat 
with him. I soon learnt his name was Louis 
Petrone, that he had a wife, but no children, 
that he had formerly been a guide, and that, 
on the whole, he was a highly entertaining, 
intellectual man* 

" Come and have a pipe with me," I said* 

He was apparently delighted, then he hesi- 
tated, coughed, and flushed under his dark skin, 
"May I bring Adele with me? She's nervous, 
monsieur, and — it's the anniversary " 

"Certainly," I laughed; "you must tell 
me the reason of this superstitious dread of 

yours and why " He shuddered, and I 

thought his face looked older as he glanced 
towards the sky, but I registered a vow I'd 
have that history. It would do the fellow 
good to talk about it. 

Accordingly, half an hour later, when we 
three sat in the little room, around the 
empty stove, Adele knitting as if for her 
very life, Louis and I smoking, when we 
had grown more familiar over a modest 
taste of wine, after sundry persuasions and 
commands, I got him to begin. 


1 UN Tu©riq-rhal from 



" Eh bien ! Si vous voukz? he acquiesced, 
but I noticed his face was grave, his voice 
had lost its cheeriness, and Adfele's head 
bent low ; and this is the translation of his 
history : — 

"It was three years ago, this first week in 
July, when we found the body of poor Henri 
Pallisier, the Balme guide, beneath ' Les 
Escaliers du Diable.' Ah ! you do not 
know the place? Ma foi ! you must have 
seen it in your descent this morning ; but 
Josfephe may not have told you. Passing 
' L'Aiguille Terrifique/ two kilometres from 
the summit, climbing down the narrow bed of 
the ' Glacier du Droisier,' you near it at the 
pointwhere the stream divides. In former days, 
before the great avalanche prevented it, the 
quickest way to get below the belt of ice was 
by the steps cut from the left glacier stream. 
It is a sheer precipice, over a mass of pointed 
rocks rising from, and divided by, narrow, 
bottomless abysses. They are called ' Les Dents 
du Chien.' Winding above these, till you 
reached a spot opposite the shallowest, you 
made a sharp descent, and passing between 
the two ' Dents d'Enfant,' after an almost 
perpendicular climb up again the other side, 
gained the ' Pas du Midi.' The powdered 
snow lies lightly on its rocky surface ; when 
you got there your difficulties were at an 
end, but it was a nasty route, monsieur — a 
dangerous route," and Louis sighed. 

" We found Pallisier's body resting on a 
ledge of rock at the mouth of one of the 
largest fissures. He was on his face, and had 
fallen from a great height; his body was 
terribly mutilated, but we knew him, as we 
should have known any guidrf for fifty miles 
around, had we seen but a quarter of his 
features. Pallisier's stock lay by him ; strapped 
round his shoulders was the battered, empty 
case of an opera-glass. Chips of the glass 
were scattered all about ; inside the case we 
found the curious name of Clulo Godwin. 

" Round Henri's waist, strained very tight, 
was the rope that bound his companion to 
him. It had broken, the end was hanging 
over the edge of the chasm ; we all knew 
what that meant ! We searched about, though 
we knew it was useless ; then we brought him 
here. He had no wife or kindred, monsieur, 
but we did our best for him. He looked 
quite nice when Adele had washed and 
dressed him. We laid him on the bed in our 
own little attique^ then I sent down to 
Chamounix to give intelligence. 

"It was the next day, in the evening, 
before anybody came to see about the body. 
They could scarcely have had it in the 

papers then, but about seven o'clock, 
monsieur, a young lady surprised us by walk- 
ing into the cafL She was quite young, only 
about nineteen, and very slight She was 
not tall, either, but she carried herself 
in a way that made her look like a little 
queen— not that she was conceited at all, or 
grandly dressed ; she wore one of those white 
jackets and skirts your English misses wear ; 
a big white hat, and a white lace veil almost 
hid her face. One thing grand she had on — 
monsieur, I was forgetting it — it was that 
silver chatelaine hanging yonder by the stove ; 
the relations gave it to me afterwards." Louis 
paused a moment, gave a fierce puff or two 
at his pipe, and then continued : — 

" She walked to the centre of the room in 
silence, and laid a hand on the table, then it 
was I noticed the hand was shaking, and 
that a bright, glittering ring on the third 
finger looked too big and heavy for it. 

" ' Have you found the body ? ' — those 
were her very first words, monsieur ; the 
French was good, but the voice trembled so 
I scarcely caught her meaning. 

" * Pardon ? ' I looked up. She had flung 
the thick veil back. Two big blue eyes were 
scanning each countenance around the room. 

"I can't describe a face, monsieur, but 
this one was the prettiest, smallest one I've 
ever seen — little fair curls round it, and all 
pink and white ; but as I kept on looking, it 
seemed to me the pink grew very little and 
the white more, and that white was very 
white indeed. 

" Now, we were rough men in the auberge 
that night, monsieur, but there was not a 
soul of us that had not stood and doffed his 
hat ; and though we were brave and fearless, 
yet that long, searching look that scanned us 
all, made each drop his head in turn. Adfele 
was the only one who had wits enough to 
break the silence. 

" i Come, mademoiselle/ she said, gently — 
and Adfele can speak gently if she will, 
monsieur — ' sit down and rest, and tell us all 
your trouble. We have found the guide's 
body ' — she laid a hand kindly on the English 
lady's arm, but she shook it off. 

" ' No ! no ! ' she cried, ' the other — have 
you not found it ? ' She had discovered 
somehow I was the proprietaire ; her eyes 
were fixed on me. ' Tell me, quick.' 

" I dropped my head ; I couldn't look at 
her, monsieur. I had guessed her secret. 
The tobacco smoke in the room was strong, 
it got into my throat. I cursed it, for it 
sounded in my voice. ' No, mademoiselle,' 
I replied, 'it is impossible.' 





"'Why impossible ?' 

"'The chasm is bottomless.' 

" 1 expected her to scream, or faint, 
she did neither, she did not even stagger, 

"'Show me the opera-glass case, 

" I went to fetch it 

** * Come into the private room, 1 I heard 
Adfcle say, as I reappeared, but mademoiselle 
shook her off again, and though a chair was 
pushed behind her, she did not seem to see 

" Before I reached her, she had seen me, 
however, and the case was in her hand, She 
walked up to the lamp, and read the soiled 
label out aloud: 'Clulo Godwin^ Clulo — 
Clu-lo — CIU"lo God-win, J again she seemed 
to spell it out, though her eyes were shut, and 
the case lay on the table* 

" Then suddenly she turned and looked at 
me again. * Why is it impossible to find 
him ? ' This time her voice was calm, almost 

" * Because, mademoiselle,' I replied, once 
more, * the chasm is bottomless/ 

44 4 Where is it ? ' 

" * Beneath ** Les Escaliers du Diable," 
among ** Lei Dents du Chien."' 

"*How far?' her words 
came in quick, imperious 

44 'Two kilometres from 
here, mademoiselle/ 

44 4 1 will go. Who will 
be my guide ?' She looked 
round the room inquir- 
ingly, but no one spoke, 

" 4 It is late, mademoi- 
selle,' I ventured, * a n d 
cold, The sun has gone 
behind ' 

" % The moon is rising,' she 
broke in, decisively. 4 You 
say it is cold— you do not 
think of him — suppose he 
may be there, crawled out of 
that hole ? He will be faint, 
wounded— — J 

44 A little mutter ran round the 
room ; several shook their heads, 
all of them were looking down ; she 
did not notice it. 

44 ' Who will guide me there ? I 
am going, I say.' Again she looked 
round, but there was silence, 

"I saw her lips were tightly pressed 
together. I noticed an uncomfortable bright 
light shining in her eyes, though not a shadow 
of a tear was there, I told her I would go. 

Digitized by Google 

She didn't speak one word to me, monsieur, 
though it was an hour's climb or more. On 
and on she went, like some young chamois, 
scarcely seeming to touch the ground, while 
I stumbled on, a mfetre or so behind her. 
And when we stood en the path, almost 
beside the spot, she would not rest. We had 
to descend to a little plateau, bordering the 
very edge of the fissure, opposite the ledge 
where poor Pallisier was found. She could 
get no nearer then, poor thing, and there 
we stood, with the great black chasm 
opening at our feet, the snow peaks 
towering above, the great brown boulders 
surrounding us on every side. The moon 
was shining with a bluish light on her pale, 
startled face — it lit up her white, thin figure, 
till she looked to me like nothing living. I 
didn't like it, monsieur, and when her voice 
suddenly rang out, with a clear, unearthly ring, 
1 Clulo ! Clulo! Clulo! 3 I crossed myself* 
and trembled like a coward, 

" Again and again it was repeated, I tried 
to drag her back, or make her lean on me ; 
but, no — for nigh an hour there she stood. 
And then she knelt, and 1 gripped her skirt 
as she leant forward on her hands and knees, 
and called, and called, and called. The rocks 
reverberated with the wailing 
cry; occasionally the black- 
ness below sent a faint 






echo back ; everywhere else an awful, death- 
like silence reigned. 

11 Her voice grew hoarse ; she rested a little, 
then began again ; now, it was so passionate, 
so pitiful, I dropped tears she never knew of 
on her dress. Then the tears, which never 
came to her own eyes, seemed to get into 
her throat, and the words came in great 
gulps, with choking fits between. 

14 1 got her home at last, monsieur ; never 
a word she spoke to me again ; but this time 
her feet in truth scarce touched the ground — 
I carried her in my strong arms. It was 
midnight when we reached the chalet. 
Adfele had the best guest-room ready. After 
forcing mademoiselle to drink warm milk, 
she dressed her in the robe-de-nuit she had 
for her own wedding, and laid her in the bed. 
You sat up with her, was it not so, Adfele ? " 

Louis broke off abruptly in his narrative, 
looked up at his wife, and apparently wiped 
a mosquito from his eyes. 

"EA/ Oui" Adfele just flashed one 
glance up from her knitting, though she 
might have done it blindfold. I noticed 
her face was working strangely. 

"She walked up and down the whole 
night long. I didn't question her, and she 
didn't seem to notice me, but her hands were 
clasped behind her, her eyes were curiously 
bright, and ,her lips kept moving, moving 

" The peasant woman was bending over 

her work again — she relapsed into her former 
moody silence. 

" S$\ si" Louis began again. "Well, it 
was in the morning, quite early, we had 
another arrival : the father and mother of 
the mademoiselle. The day before they had 
returned to their hotel to find the newspaper 
lying open, and their daughter vanished. 
They had traced her with difficulty, and, 
mafoi! how nervous and anxious they were, 
and how they sobbed with joy and grief on 
their arrival ! 

" In five minutes they had told us all. 
There was not much to tell. Clulo Godwin 
was to have married their daughter — Lil they 
called her— before the month was out. He 
had taken leave of them two days before the 

14 We led them to the bedroom where we 
had left mademoiselle ; the place was empty. 
We knew where she had gone ! I guided 
them myself, monsieur, and by the 4 Escalier 
du Diable' we found her. They went to 
meet her ; I came back alone. 

" Just before dinner they returned. They 
passed through the cafe to this private room 
they were to hire. The mademoiselle walked 

Digitized by L^OOgle 

first : she looked neither to the right nor left ; 
her big, blue eyes had a hard, cold stare in 
them — they seemed to be looking at some- 
thing in the distance ; her face had a lifeless, 
set look on it. The gentleman and lady 
followed ; the lady had her handkerchief to 
her eyes. The old man came up to me and 
laid a shaking hand on my arm. 

" * I do not think she knows us, Monsieur 
P&rone,' he said, ' but she obeys us like a 

"They stayed two weeks with me, these 
English. Every day, first thing in the 
morning, mademoiselle glided silently away, 
the mother or the father followed at a 
distance. She hardly ever spoke to them. 
She ate, undressed, lay down, but never 
slept ; rose, and dressed again, like some wax- 
work machine, and every day the pink colour 
on her face grew less, till at last her lips 
themselves looked almost white. 

" * Do you think it is any use our staying 
here ? ' the monsieur asked of me one morn- 
ing ; 4 if any tidings turned up, you would be 

the first to hear them ?' I shrugged 

my shoulders and shook my head. 

" ' No use, monsieur, for that ; but the 
mademoiselle ? ' 

" Ah ! pauvre hommel how he groaned. 

" * Wc will stay the fortnight out/ he said, 
4 and then, God help us ! ' 

" It was the afternoon, the day before their 
departure, that a strange thing happened. 
A mule arrived from Chamounix, carrying a 
tall Englishman, broad, and well made, with 
a handsome face, but sallow, sunken cheeks. 
His clothes were torn and dirty ; he alighted 
with difficulty, limped into the cafe y and 
asked, in affreuse franfais, for Monsieur and 
Madame Beaumont. It was Clulo Godwin ! 
I don't care to be in the way, monsieur; 
scenes make me nervous and uncomfortable. 
I left them together in the cafe, and went to 
clean my knives with Jean. I had heard 
how it all happened, that was enough for me. 

"The young fellow fell first, on a ledge 
higher up than that on which we found poor 
Pallisier — it was then the rope snapped and 
sent Henri to his death. The Englishman 
must have fainted, for when he realized where 
he was, and saw the guide's mangled body 
down below, it was almost dark. He suffered 
terrible pain in his ankle, and though he 
thought no bones .were broken, he could 
only crawl along on hands and knees. He 
had never been to this hotel ; the nearest 
shelter he knew of was Pallisier's ch&let, 
four kilometres away, the western side of the 
mountain. It was moonlight, but it took 




him till eleven o'clock next morning to reach 
it Of course, the place was empty, but he 
had a roof to cover him, and provisions to 
his hand. He needed both. His journey, 
the pain and long exposure, brought on a 
fearful fever. Three days he must have lain 
unconscious ; then slowly he came round 

"To move was an impossibility, his suffer- 
ings were awful, and as his body grew better, 

the worry in his mind grew worse. 

were his friends to know he was alive? 

hon Dku favoured him, monsieur ; 

more weary days, peasants arrived to 

away poor Henri's 

belongings, and 

there they found 

the Englishman, 

They took him to 

Chamouitix ; he 

arrived there 

only to find his 

friends had left 

it! He heard 

they were here, 

got a doctor to 

see to his foot, 

and then came up 


" 'How is Lil? 5 
was his first 
question, and he 
had repeated it 
five times before 
I left the room* 

4 i E h h ten , 
monsieur, ah! 
what came next ? How 
dark it seems to have 
grown ! Sen Dim J 
there are eloudsgather- 
ing!" The a&bergtste 
turned his weather 
beaten face towards 
the window, there was 
an uneasy light in his 


eyes : 

he shivered be- 

fore he turned round 
again, though it was as 
close as possible. 

" Eh hien-hoH ! I had cleaned the knives, 
when I saw them all three pass the cuisine 
door, on their way to the little plaisance 
behind ; then I heard a light step coming 
down the stairs, and guessed the reason. 
Mademoiselle was passing through the 
cafk to the private room. A moment 
later Monsieur t \ od vv i 11 r epa ssed — he 
was going to join her there alone. I 

Digitized by G* 


waited till 1 heard the door close on 
them, then I went into the cafe to see to 
things a biL The walls are not thick, as you 
perceive, monsieur— I heard mutterings— 
pardon me, I listened. There was only one 
voice speaking, it was the Englishman's \ for 
half an hour it hardly ever ceased. Bon Dku^ 
tte me reprothe tu pas ! It was dishonest, but 
I had great affection towards them — I put my 
ear to the keyhole, and I heard ^re;it sobs, 
not loud, but long and deep, and half- 
smothered, and then the voice, the man's 
voice still, began again, now broken and 
hollow, now clear and quivering like a 

woman's : * Li I, 
Lil, my little Lil ! 
Won*t you look ? 
Don't you know? 
Can't you re- 
member? Our 
wedding day, My 
Lilly, look — 

Clulo ' 

"A loud, shrill 

laugh startled 

me- I jumped 

into the centre 

of the room, not 

a moment too 

soon. The young 

lady flung open 

the door, and passed 

close beside me. She 

did not see me, though 

her dress brushed my 

coat. Her eyes were 

staring, as usual, 

straight before her I 

shuddered as 1 looked, 

monsieur — the light 

in them appeared to 

me more unearthly, 

more terrible than 

ever, and her lips 

showed the little, 

white teeth as they 

parted in a ghastly, 

senseless smile, 

" She went out the 
front way. I knew 
where she was going, The man followed her. 
I did not see his face, it was bent so low ; 
I only saw its colour, and it was like a sheet 
of notepaper. One moment he went 
en arriere to speak to monsieur and ma da me, 
then he took his two sticks, and with his head 
still bent down, went after her. 

" It was late that night when they came 
back. She came in first, as before, he after 
Original from 




her, and each one looked the very same as 
when they went. * 

11 ' She does not know him, nor ever will/ 
I told AdMe." Louis was puffing furiously at 
his pipe, his wife still bent over her work, 
apparently utterly absorbed, only occasionally 

I saw her chest heave, and the needles twitch 
in her hard, wrinkled hands. 

"Two days this state of things went 
on. 'She is mad, and it is killing him/ I 
told Adfele again. She is not a woman of 
words, is Adfele; she did not answer, but 
instead she went and knelt below the 
crucifix. It was long before I slept that 
night. I lay watching her lips moving, 
trying to pray, too. When I woke, she was 
there still. 

" I shall never forget that morning." Louis 
was looking apprehensively towards the 
window ; he shuddered, and again that curious, 
half-frightened expression crept over his 

" ' I have an idea in* my head/ Adfele came 
to me and said ; ' the ban Dieu put it there? 

"Two hours later I told it to Monsieur 

" ' Your lady is mad/ I said. He looked 
at me, his eyes dropped, he bit his lips, but 
he did not contradict me, only I saw his 
fingers twitch, and clasp, and unclasp his 

"'She thinks your body lies in yonder 
fissure. She thought at first you might crawl 
out alive, and she would find you there — 
perhaps she thinks so still. There is a ledge 
on the other side of the chasm, beneath 

II Les Escaliers du Diable," it is opposite to 
where she stands. We could get you 

there ' A flash like lightning came into 

his eyes. 

" ' I see/ he cried, in English. i God bless 
you ! ' He wrung my hands. ' She shall find 
me there to-night ! A thousand heartfelt 
thanks ! ' 

" I had never finished, but he understood 
me. * Thank Adele,' I said, and turned 

" In one thing the Englishman was obsti- 
nate : he must go to i Les Dents du Chien ' 
by himself, he said. It was impossible, I 
told him ; he could not clamber down alone. 
At length he consented to let Monsieur 
Beaumont accompany him and help to place 
him. Madame was to follow with the young 

Again Louis paused — he was looking at 
Adfele — he seemed at a loss how to proceed. 
At last he did a strange thing— he moved his 
chair round, turned his back upon his wife, 

Vol. xiii.-38. 

and then continued. I noticed a change in 
his demeanour — his words were not so fluent, 
his sentences came forth in laconic, laboured 
jerks — his eyes were fixed on the open 
window and the sky beyond it. 

" I see them now," he said ; " it was ten 
o'clock when it happened— they had been 
gone two hours, it must have been about 
eight when they set out. I say it again, 
monsieur, I see them now: Monsieur Godwin, 
walking better than I had ever seen him, his 
handsome head held high, a new expression 
on his face. He turned back as he reached 
the door, and wrung me by the hand again. 

" ' God bless you/ he said, once more, 
'and your wife AdMe. I believe my love 
will come to me/ those were his very words, 
monsieur. And then the old father, with his 
bent shoulders and white hair, tottering after 
him. Half an hour later, mademoiselle glided 
out. She had the same white dress on I had 
ever seen her in, her face was like a marble 
Madonna's ; but, ma foil it was better than 
that smile ! The mother, who had turned 
quite grey in those few days, crept out last 
of all " 

Louis' voice shook, beads of perspiration 
were forming on his forehead, one ran down 
his rugged cheek — or was it something else ? 
" Bon Dieu ! " he muttered, and it was no 
mere expression, but a prayer. 

" It was a night like this — this sultry still- 
ness — this heavy, oppressive silence. This 
seems to have come on suddenly ; that had 
been on all day. AdMe and I were in the 
plaisance. We had been there since they 
left — looking — watching. We could hear 
the mosquitoes buzzing, zizzing ; the tinkle of 
the cow-bells on the lower bends of the moun- 
tain ; even, we fancied, the tolling convent- 
bell five kilometres below. Suddenly there 
was a shriek, a scream, then — Adele and I 
could swear it — then down the mountain 
above us came a startled cry- a woman's 
cry — ' Clu-lo ! Clu-lo ! ' We knew the voice. 
We had heard the cry before, but we had 
never heard that strange new ring in it — 
we could swear it, could we not, AdMe ? " 

And Adfele, though her husband did not 
see her, nodded, and at last put down her 

" Five minutes later, we were startled by a 
terrific crash above us. It was something 
like thunder, only the roar was more rattling 
and continuous. It grew nearer and nearer, 
louder and louder— the air vibrated all 
around the plaisance —the very mountain 
itself began to shake. We heard them 
scream insicfriW chalet Adele and I 

um * 



clasped ourselves in each other's arms — we 
knew what it meant. 

"There we stood for half an hour, then 
the vibration ceased, the thunder grew 
distant, and indistinct, the atmosphere 
became clearer — the avalanche had passed ! " 
Louis mopped his face with his handkerchief, 
and opened his coat "It was the Grand 
Desastro, monsieur, the bursting of the 
Glacier de CoL 

"We found them in the morning, 
monsieur--- they were together. She had 
her arms round him, his head was resting 
on her face. Only a few huge rocks had 
rolled towards ( Les Dents du Chien,' but 
one was on them — they were on the ledge, 
dieir meeting place* We never found the 
parents ; the sea 
of rocks and ice 
and snow had 
swallowed up 
the path, and all 
beyond it But 
beneath ( Les 
1\ s r-;i liers du 
Diable' there is 
a stone : ' Clulo 
and Lil' is carved" 
on it — that is all 
--and under- 
neath, l Rzquies- 
axni in pace? 

The bodies- " 

Louis ceased. 
He puffed at 
his pipe, but 
it had gone out 

" Bon Dieu ! " he cried again. A cloud 
had suddenly blown up arid obscured the 
face of the moon. We were thrown in 
almost total darkness; through the open 
window came the chilling breath of an 
approaching storm. 

A second later a peal of thunder burst 
right over the chalet, and then, with a wild 
shriek, the wind arose and dashed a sheet of 
rattling rain against the panes and roof. 

Louis started up, his face looked ashy in 
the gloom, u Did you not hear it, wife ? " 
He stumbled like a stricken man across the 
room, but ere he reached Adfele, she had 

All at once, a fork of lightning flashed 
past me, and played a ghastly dance upon 

the silver chate- 
laine. A shiver- 
ing ague seized 
even my strong 
limbs. I dropped 
my pipe — it 
crashed upon 
the floor, Then 
it was that terri- 
fying shriek 
arose a gain, 
" Clu-lo ! — Clu- 
lo ! " I could 
have sworn it 
cried, and as 
another blast of 
rain was hurled 
against the win- 
dow ■ panes, the 
clock struck ten. 

[Dr. Ctntan Day It? $ new Serial \ u The Tragedy of the l KaroskoJ " wffi begin in the May Number, It 
relates, iua mvst strikittgand thrttting manner, the adventures of a party of English and J rner nan tourists 
m ihe Nile, ™ha ft II among the £fa* tushes f ana* iviil make the reader realize^ perhaps far ike Jirsf ftme t what 
a Dervish really is,] 

. "I -. Original from 


Queens of a Day, 

By Margaret Griffith. 

UEENS of a day have to 
make up for the brevity of 
their sovereignty by the pomp 
of their installation. There- 
fore, each succeeding year, the 
chosen one, in her magnificent 
stare robe, with crown, bracelet, and ring, 
carrying a sceptre and a huge bouquet, and 
seated in a superb flower-wreathed car, makes 
her royal progress through the streets of 
Paris, as the Mi-Careme or Mid-Lent 
festival of the students comes round. 

Surrounded by her maids of honour and 
flattering attendants, lauded by the Press, 
and greeted with the loud and enthusiastic 
plaudits of the crowds that have assembled 
all along the route to do honour to the 
Heine des Heines, her triumph is as absolute 
as it is ephemeral. 

The Mi-Careme Carnival is entirely 
organized by the students of the Latin 
Quarter, who conscientiously live up to the 
letter of their motto —Folie et CharitL 
Though generally regarded as mad Bohe- 
mians, whose words are wild and deeds worse, 
those best acquainted with them know of 
many acts of unostentatious charity, of pri- 
vations borne unmurmuringly, and many 
instances of unselfish generosity that would 
shame some of their detractors. 

It is M. Emile Merwart, Colonial Adminis- 
trator and President of the Students' Asso- 
ciation, who deserves the credit of founding, 
or rather reviving, the present Mid-Lenten 
fetes; for one day, while studying in the 
Bibliotltique National he came across some 
old records of the fifteenth and sixteenth 
centuries containing descriptions of student 
celebrations of those days, which he at once 
determined to revive in Paris. In 1891, 
with the able collaboration of M. Brill, 
who was elected President of the Mi- 
Car£me, a brilliant procession was organ- 
ized, which was to be repeated with added 
magnificence each year as far as the funds 
would permit. It was also determined 
that a queen of the fetes should be selected 
by vote from among the employees of the 
public /avoirs or wash-houses, which it 
must be explained are not laundries in the 
accepted meaning of the word, for the linen 
sent by private individuals, shops, or by 

blanchisseuses> or laundresses proper, are only 
washed in these places. 

The attributes and qualifications essential 
for the high position of queen are beauty 
and goodness, for it is said that purity 
of morals is as much a sine qud non as purity 
of linen in these lavoirs, and canvassing and 
preliminary meetings are strictly forbidden to 
the candidates who aspire to royal honours. 
The election usually takes place at the Cate 
Americaine, in the Place de la R£publique, 
in the presence of the committees, of the 
students, and of the lavoirs; M. Semichon, 
the President of the Committee of Wash- 
houses; M. Gastane, its Hon. President 
— who is now in his eighty-third year — and on 
whose right hand the queen sits after her 
election ; M. Brill, President of the Mi- 
Careme ; and M. Remy Cavoy, Vice-President 
of the Syndic Chamber of the Washer- 
men of France. The candidates, who often 
number a hundred or more, pass before their 
judges with their numbers pinned on their 
breasts, and the voting immediately follows. 
Unhappy is the one who attempts to captivate 
her judges by gaudy attire, for an over- 
trimmed hat even may disqualify her. The 
French standard of beauty differs slightly 
from ours, the grand proportions of a Juno 
being preferred to more ethereal charms. 
The election of the queen and her maids of 
honour over, the queen has to choose her 
king, who, in default of a fiancee^ is usually 
the son of one of the laundry proprietors or 
an employe^ for she is no longer ambitious, 
and she fully realizes that her brief glory will 
not bring to her feet a Prince Charmant or 
a noble King Cophetua. 

With newly-acquired dignity, she graciously 
receives the congratulations of her com- 
panions and the company generally. Then a 
casket is handed to her containing a ring of 
diamonds, rubies, or other precious stones, 
and a large bouquet from the Committee of 
Students. Another handsome floral offering 
is made by the proprietor of the Cafe Ameri- 
caine. Speeches follow, during which M. 
Semichon announces that their queen reigns 
not only over the lavoirs of Paris, but that 
the President of the Syndic extends her 
sovereignty over the whole body of French 
washerwomen^jnal from 



The queen-elect remains at the wash-house 
until about a week before her final triumph, 
when she has to be photographed, and to 
hold consultations with her dressmaker— for 
what may not depend on her robe?— and to 
hold levhSj at which all the journalists of 
Paris assist ; but she remains perfectly 
unmoved by their praises and compliments. 

The beautiful dresses worn by each 
succeeding queen and her maids oF honour 
are usually presented to them by some well- 
known drapery firm, I,ast year they were 
given by the Alagazin known as the 

The bracelet is the gift of the President of 
France, the ring and bouquet of the students, 
and the sceptre and crown — which every 
year differ in design— of the committee of 

One day occupying a throne and the next 
beating linen at the wash-tub is a startling 
transformation ; but these ex-queens live 
happily on the memories of their brief 
honours, and carefully preserve their robes 
and regalia, to don them a second time on 
as equally happy an occasion — that of their 

Seven queens of a day have already reigned 
in Paris. Two of them are married — one of 
whom, alas ! is awaiting the result of her 
petition for divorce; a third is in exile, and 
three are spinsters, but there has, as yet, 
been no dauphin., 

It has been my privilege to have inter- 
viewed these queens of the past, and to hear 
from their own royal lips the history of 
their lives and the glories of their sovereignty. 

The first "Queen of Queens" was Mile, 
Ixmise Sicard, who was elected in 1891. I 
called upon her at 
the laundry of the 
Rue Milton, where 
she has worked for 
many years. On 
stating my business 
at the little office in 
the laundry where 
soda, soapj and 
other necessaries are 
weighed and given 
out to the washer- 
women, the ex-queen 
was summoned from 
her tub, and stood 
before me, a tall, 
dark, and rather 
handsome woman of 
commanding pre- 
sence and mien, and 

with a little more than a suspicion of down 
outlining her upper lip* 

lt I was less fortunate than my successors," 
she said, u for I had neither bracelet nor 
ring, and had to buy my own dress, which 
1 wore at my wedding, for I was married 
about ten months ago*" she added, proudly, 
li My diadem alone remains now, and if you 
will come to my house in Montmartre, I 
will show it you. It is in a glass case 
in the place of honour, for I shall always 
preserve it.' J 

"Will you give me your photograph, 
so that I can reproduce it in a grand English 

41 1 will ask my husband if he will permit 
me to do so, for he is very particular. You 
know that, having been chosen to be the first 
4 Queen of Queens/ I am the most important. 
I was invited to go on a tour in Normandy, and 
to visit the principal towns of France, I was 
feted everywhere, and presented with several 
beautiful medals and many presents. I have 
also collected several thousand francs for 
charity. In my armoire at home I have 
eighty-four cuttings from different journals 
written about me." 

I was duly impressed by the importance 
of this ex -queen, and, as she seemed 
impatient to return to her tub, I took my 
leave, after inviting her to come and see me 
at my hotel. A few evenings later a card 
was sent in to me with a little portrait in one 
corner, and inscribed, " Louise Sicard, i« 
Reine des Reines." 

I hastened to receive my guest, who, on 
this occasion, was dressed in ck.-ep mourning, 
and was much more dignified and reserved 
than the first time I saw her in her w T orking 


* i 

<^C<n^cJ Q)iscart& 


1" tftetnc Dc6 £R*in£A 

Xr<*ciHt JluxWfv 

Front a Photo, by] 

ULLE. LOUISE SICAKD -^zils in 1J91, rUrre-l>ttU t Pari*. 




attire. I realized at once that the oft-quoted 
" dignity which hedges a king"— or queen — 
must lie in their fine clothes. Mme. Sicard 
was accompanied by her husband, who 
explained at great length the difficulties 
and responsibilities of his position as the 
guardian and protector — she was nearly twice 
his size — of so exalted a personage. After a 
little light refreshment he became con- 
fidential, and informed me that " she 
had hundreds of offers of marriage that 
year/ 1 referring to 1891, whereupon the 
ex * queen non- 
chalantly inter- 
rupted, "That's 
nothing ; we all 
get the same," 
adding, with an 
eloquent, dis- 
dainful gesture 
of the hand, u I 
threw them all 
behind the fire." 
Her photograph, 
in an elaborate 
gilt frame, was 
then exhibited, 
and I was told 
they had only 
that one copy, 
and they could 
not part with 
such a precious 
souvenir. I ex- 
pressed my 
willingness to 
pay for its being 
copied, so that 
difficulty was 
overcome, and I 
was promised a 
photograph in 
three days. In- 
stead of the pic- 
ture, however, I 
received a letter, 
offering me the 

original portrait, frame and all, for the modest 
sum of twenty pounds. As I considered 
the demand excessive for a cabinet portrait, 
albeit it was that of the first " Queen of 
Queens,' 1 I did not reply to Monsieur k 
Man] but preferred to reproduce, for the 
amusement of the readers, the royal visiting- 

Mile. Henrietta Delabarre was the queen 
of 1892. She lives with her mother and 
sister at the Rue des Trois-Couronnes, where 
they have a laundry, a clean and invitimr 

little home ; the exterior, painted blue, looks 
as bright as the merry face of the ex-queen 
herself, who came forward to receive me and 
to learn my business. 

** Ah," she said, in reply to a question, " I 
have never forgotten that lovely day and the 
acclamations of the crowd — I felt as if I were 
in a dream. Yes, our reign is brief, but I 
hope to reign a long time in the hearts of the 

Mile. Delabarre was very charming ; she 
has pleasant manners and a reputation for 

beauty. She was 
very anxious to 
know if the 
queen of 1896 
was pretty, for 
our conversa- 
tion took place 
shortly after the 
last election. 
41 My sister," she 
went on to say, 
11 was chosen last 
year as a maid 
of honour, but 
we would not let 
her go, for such 
a post is not con- 
sistent with the 
dignity of a 
queen's sister/' 
I saw the 
crown, which was 
a little tarnished, 
possibly by 
reason of its 
having been used 
more than once, 
for it was ex- 
plained that her 
sister Mile, Anals 
had worn it last 
year when chosen 
queen of the 
" I still value it, although it is a little fiassee, 
as you see," she remarked, "and my robe 
will perhaps serve me some day for my 
wedding." The mother, who was busy 
ironing, here looked up and said, " Oh, yes, 
let's make bets on your wedding," then turning 
to me she said, H My daughter is very hard to 
please, ma da me ; she cannot make up her 
mind, but she does not lack suitors." The 
queen smiled, and said, "There is time 
enough for that ; I am not in a hurry to get 
married 1 ' Then, changing the subject, she 



From a I'huU \ frjr rUm-PttU, P*™*- 



went on to say, 
11 Nothing will ever 
make me forget 
the MiCareme of 

1892. it was the 
most perfect day 
of my life," 

Mile. Eugenie 
Petit, the queen of 

1893, is now 
Madame Reiutrd 
She is very pretty, 
but very unfortu- 
nate, for her tnar- 
riagu has turned 
out to be a failure, 
and her happiness 
was as short-lived 
as her royalty. 
Separated from her 
husband, although 
only married about 
a year, and living 
with her family in 
great poverty in 
the Sante Quarter, 
she is impatiently 
awaiting for her 
divorce ; but I 
heard it said that 
M the judges do not seem to admit 
the possibility of incompatibility of 
temper between a queen and her 
subject. Nevertheless, nothing is 
more common." This poor, sad 
queen has fallen from her high 
estate, and sits in lonely misery 
thinking longingly of her past splen- 
dours and pleasures, and her tears 
flow as she turns on her finger the 
little gold ring given her by the 
students on the day of her election. 
Queens in misery are as much out 
of place as ** Kings in exile/ 

The queen of 1894, Mile Bon- 
horn me, is another unhappy proof 
that royalty is not exempt from 
misfortune. Her father was at one 
time proprietor of the hn\rir Jouy- 
Rouve at Belleville, and fairly well 
to do, but from some cause or 
other, business got bad and went 
from kid to worse, until the final 
crash came, that not even the small 
sum of money received by the 
young queen at her festival could 
avert, That was soon swallowed 
u\\ and still misfortunes, which 
never come singly t followed 

mli.k, kul;knik 

1 n M a /■'..■'.. 

PETIT— "QUK*H IN 1893. 

b§ Pwrnfelti, Pari*. 

and faster, li was 
discovered that 
the queen was a 
usurper, and had 
no right to her 
throne, for she was 
not a member of 
the Corporation of 
which is an abso- 
lute essential ; but 
out of pity for the 
sore distress of her 
family she was 
allowed to keep her 
regalia and royal 
robes* Neverthe- 
less, to find means 
to appease clamor- 
ous creditors, the 
final sacrifice had 
to be made : the 
beautiful gown, her 
crown, and the 
bracelet, which 
was the gift of the 
late President 
Carnot, had to be 
taken to the Mtmt- 



VU-l.E. £ 





From a Photo, of fiirHi JfrHf, i**Hi 

de-PietL The gloom was a little 
dispelled when two suitors came 
to woo Ml la Bonhomme, one a 
butchers boy, the other an engraver, 
but they both quickly retired when 
they discovered she had no dot. 
This poor, luckless queen was at 
last compelled to say good-bye to 
her beloved Paris — the scene of her 
triumphs, the city of brightness and 
pleasure, and to retire to Auvergne, 
her native province. 

Mile. Louise Grimm, the beautiful 
blonde queen of 1895, has been 
the most fortunate and happiest of 
all the queens up to the present 
She lives with her mother in the 
Rue des Boulets, in the Roquette 
Quarter, and keeps a small laundry. 
Her royalty, she told me smilingly, 
lasted more than a day. "I was 
four months at the laundry exhibi- 
tion at the Palais de ('Industrie, 
where as * Queen of Queens n of 
the Guilds, I gave demonstration 
lessons in laundry work for the 
benefit of the visitors. 1 have 
been much spoiled, and have had 

Diqilizea by viOOy It 

hundreds of proposals ; many of 
them, however, I must confess, 
were from unknown persons, who 
principally wanted to obtain my 
photograph, but I had several 
genuine offers also, one from a 
millionaire living in the Hautes- 
Pyrenees. "' " And you refused it ? " 
" Yes, I can afford to wait, and I 
should like to see and know a great 
deal about a person before I could 
marry him." 

This ex-queen is as wise as she is 
fair. Her lovely gown, her crown, 
ring, and the bracelet presented to 
her by M, Felix Faure, are religiously 
preserved in her wardrobe, and ex- 
hibited with pardonable pride. 

Mile. Defilloy was the queen of 
last year, She belongs to a hxwir 
in the Jouy-Rouve district, and was 
selected from among ninety - six 
candidates, but she is not as beauti- 
ful or as refined-looking as her 
predecessor Her two maids of 
honour, Miles. Marie Francois and 
Eugenie, are very handsome girls, 


1 ; 

3 X* 




s. * 

t ' 




fret*' n Pibbi* ity jPfcriJtofl; Parii 




and rather put their royal mistress in the 

Some of the proprietors of the /avoirs 
complain that this custom of selecting 
queens has unfortunate results : that the 
acclamations, compliments, and praises turn 
their heads, and that they become dis- 
contented with their position and work, 
which, after the high prerogative they had 
enjoyed, they consider beneath them. Their 
companions become jealous of them, and 
vent their feelings in petty spite and annoy- 
ances, which engender bitter ill-feeling. 
How far this is true I do not know. All 
the queens I saw seemed to be contented 
enough ; the worries of poverty and domestic 
troubles would come to them the same if 
they had never worn the ermine. The 
institution is eminently picturesque from an 
artistic point of view, and one it would be a 
pity to do away with. 

The funds at the disposal of the committee 
for the Mi-Careme of 1896 were much 
smaller than the amount placed in their hands 
for the festival of the previous year. This 
may be explained by the fact of the revival 
of the old Boeuf-Gras celebrations, and 
their taking place only a few weeks before 
the students' fete, and also because all the 
shopkeepers on the boulevards had sub- 
scribed towards the Bceuf-Gras instead of, as 
formerly, supporting the Mi-Careme. This 
is the more to be regretted as the students 
devote all their profits to charitable purposes. 
In i8<;5 they had in hand the sum of ^450 ; 
last year only a little more than half that 
amount, subscribed by the Municipality, the 
committee of the /avoirs, the Students' 
Association, and the general public, was 

Despite lack of funds and bad weather, 
the fete was a great success, and the many 
who prognosticated a failure, and jeeringly 
remarked that it was impossible for the Mi- 
Careme to compete with the Bceuf-Gras, 
were obliged to own that the students knew 
what they were about " Bah ! " was the 
students' reply to the croakers, " our youthful 
limbs and 'go' will outwit our rivals." 
The procession was originally intended to 
represent all the events of the preceding year 
— political and religious excepted — but it was 
finally decided to include only the principal 
events. There were twelve chariots in all, 

and the royal carriage, which, with its escort 
of students, looked very imposing. The 
students of the Colonial College had exercised 
their ingenuity in the representation of a 
Hindu fete and the procession of Buddha ; 
but the most amusing feature in the whole 
procession was the triumph of auto-mobiliza- 
tion, organized by the students of the Ecole 
d'Alfert. An elegant Victoria, propelled by 
invisible force, was occupied by horses sitting 
in nonchalant poses, with forelegs crossed, and 
escorted by cavaliers personifying such historic 
celebrities as Fanfan la Tulipe, Don Quixote, 
Sancho Panza, Henry IV., and Jean d'Arc. 
Following this novel equipage were veterinary 
surgeons, with downcast heads and mournful 
visages, and all in rags, whose profession is 
menaced by the threatened suppression of 
horse traction. Behind them were 'bus and 
cab drivers in an equally pitiable condition, 
forming an eloquent illustration of the oft- 
heard cry of, "We have no work to do." 
Specially characteristic of the Latin Quarter 
was the Luxembourg car, in which living 
personages represented the fountain of the 
Luxembourg. Fifty Auvergnats with bagpipes 
danced a bourree, not in the best of time, but 
with most untiring vigour and contagious 
merriment. It is impossible to describe 
half the grotesque and laughable skits upon 
the inventions and events of the age, which 
the students' ingenuity and love of fun had 
evolved for the amusement of the public, and 
not a little to their own. 

It is at the Mi-Careme that the students' 
magazine, which is only issued once a year 
under the title of Au Quartier Latin, appears ; 
it is edited by M. Brill, Marc Legrand, and 
Maurice Lenoir. The greatest artists and 
writers seem to be at their best in their free 
contributions to this unique journal, while 
equally clever are the articles, poems, and 
sketches offered by those who are as yet only 
mounting the ladder of fame. The covers 
bear the signatures of Cheret, Prudhomme, 
and Merwart; while the other illustrations 
are by Carolus Duran, Carriere, Belleuse, 
Gervex, Rochegrosse, Detaille, Charly (the 
clever military caricaturist), Jacques Villon, 
a student who prefers the palette to his 
law books ; the brothers Oury and Job, 
besides the many other artists and writers 
who have enrolled themselves under the 
motto of Folic ct Charite. 

by Google 

Original from 

son ticket 
year, and puts me 
in at the turnstile 
whenever I am 
likely to be in the 
way in the house, 
or whenever she 
judges that I re- 
quire amusement 
and instruction, I 
think that must be 
one reason why she 
chose our house 
at Sydenham. It 
is very thoughtful 
of her, and, as she 
says, the Crystal 
Palace is a very 
proper place of 
resort, where one is 
not likely to get 
into habits of dis- 
sipation so long as 

VoJ, xiiL- 39. 

GO very much to the Crystal 
Palace- My wife, indeed, who 
is a very remarkable woman, 
and stands five feet ten, buys 
me a 



one has no money. I, as a matter of fact, 
always have a shilling, which my wife ties 
in the corner of my pocket-handkerchief 
when she leaves me at the gate. This, you 

will understand, is 
in case of emer- 
gency, I have 
never yet sum- 
moned courage to 
have an emergency, 
so that I have 
always carried 
home the shilling 
intact, I under- 
stand nothing of 
poultry, dogs, cats, 
goats, and rabbits, 
though I have seen 
so many of them 
at the shows that 
they have made 
me giddy. I saw 
fowls (Cochins and 
B rah mas, I believe, 
were the sorts) at 
a show lately that 
would, I imagine, 
terrify any ordi- 
nary fox who tried 

Original from 

3° 6 



to steal them, and I saw bantams so 
small that they might have been included 
in lark-pie without anybody suspecting it. I 
saw so many of these things that at last I 

grew very tired, 
with the familiar 
Crystal Palace 
weariness, and 
sat down in the 
Egyptian Court 

i Y^jik scntly l per " 

ceived that what 
1 had supposed 
to be a large, 
reddy - brown 
gentleman of 
Egyptian extrac- 
tion, painted on 
the wall, was in 
reality a stout 
person in tweeds, 

! who had terrified 

f SvV J J before ky tread- 
ing heavily on 
my toes, and 
apologizing in a 
very loud voice. 
Much to my alarm, he approached me 
again, and, ere I could escape, slapped me 
on the back, 

4 ■ Come along here and see the exhibits/' 


QtlCK — 


he said. " I don't believe you Ye enjoying 
yourself a bit See what wonderful things 
breeders are doing! Perfecting species till 
their mothers wouldn't know Vm. What's 
the good o* fowls that only lay eggs, and 




stuff pillows, and help to make dinners, and 
so on ? See these game-cocks, now. We're 
breeding 'em into lifeguardsmen* Good 
notion, eh ? And Houdans, too — they're 
evoluting into grenadiers. And we're getting 
boxers as well We're working up to heavy- 
weight champions with Indian game fowl, 
and we're getting featherweights out of the 
game-ban tanrif|^^ a |%g l ^ 1 cock-fighting, that, 





don't it ? Oh, I tell you, I knew all along 
what careful breeding would come to. The 
recruiting difficulty will be got over altogether 
as soon as we've bred off a little more of 
the lifeguardsman's tail, and brought that 
grenadier's toes close enough to go into 
boots. And we breed the uniforms on T em 
all ready, too ! 1.00k at the saving in bear- 
skins alone ! Paying game, too 1 I believe 
you, my boy. When a breeder's got a few 
thousand Houdans and game-cocks all draw- 
ing full privates' pay and allowances, why, 
his fortune's made—to say nothing of the sale 
of dead poultry after a desperate battle. And 
there's a deal o 1 money in boxing matches, 
too— and you can keep a whole nest of 
champions going on a handful of oats now 
and again, and an occasional worm. Cheaper 
than the usual sort of boxing champion, I 
assure you, 

"Of course, some breeders aren't so 

successful. Here's the Pekin 
bantams, for instance, Well, 
there's been a deal of trouble 
taken with them, but they 
haven't got far. We've cut 
down the Cochins' clothes for 
'em, but they haven't grown 
a decent fit yet, and never 
will, so far as I can see. Why, 
any common bantam you like 
can show a neater figure than 
them. Look at that preco- 
cious little chap pre-Cochin' 
with that big hen*" 

I glared, but the stout 
person never blenched. 
hi Halloa, Maria/' he ex- 

.-:!■ lis 

by VjO( 

" MARIA ! ,P 

claimed, familiarly, and I 
quailed, for my wife's name 
is Maria, But I perceived 
that he was addressing a 
black Spanish hen, who was 
busy with a powder-puff, I 
had never understood before 
how the black Spanish hens 
got their beautiful com- 
plexions when on show. Now 
that 1 saw it at last, it seemed 
the most natural thing in the 
world, and I was not in the 
least surprised to hear the 




reminded me singularly of my wife's. (l Oh, 
don't bother me," she said, "it's sicken- 
ing. Here I'm expected to keep a good Why, only 
complexion for four days right off! It's all yesterday as 
very well as regards my face, but I can't never was I 
make it stop on my nose. And a pretty says to Mrs. 
sight I'm beginning to look, Orlando ! " The Harris, I says" 
Spanish hen looked straight in my face. — but I fled 
Now, my name h Orlando, and what with again. The 
the Spanish hen's voice, and other things geese seemed 
that reminded nie of my wife, I felt so a shockingly 
uncomfortable that I began to 
run swiftly — many, many miles," it 
seemed, till 1 arrived at the part 
of the show occupied by the geese 
and ducks. 

But the man in the brown suit 
was still with me, (i We haven't 
done so much in breeding with 
ducks/' he said. a The duck 
remains pretty simple, even a 

course I kmnved I shouldn't get no prize. 
Just like these fellers. It's scandalous. 






vulgar crew, and were 
i( guying " each other 

ll-L^i a l ^ e ver ^ respectable 

•i^==p-^" turkeys near them, like 

bad boys in a theatre 

gallery. One had begun 

to ask me an impudent 

question as to my feet, 

when I left, and came again among the 

much better behaved fowls. 

" Here," said the brown man, who followed 



first prize duck. Something white 
with a beak and legs, and there 
you are. They're so much alike 
that duck judges go mad regu- 
larly after three shows each," 

Here a very hoarse goose, 
shuffling impatiently in its cage, 
addressed me as though in 
response to an observation of 
my own. '* Prize ? ?J she said, 
" no, of course not ! It's dis- 
graceful ! 0h f I know how these 
shows are worked 1 Ketch me 
comiiV agen, and leavin 1 the 
washin' an J everylhink ! Him 
call hisself a judge, indeed ! Of 

sy Google 

1 AU RIGHT— *Egqppgj^ji^[?f|^J|-^RiaTMAii r 




me everywhere, 
" here are the 
Cochins," By 
this time, I began 
to distrust my pre- 
vious recognition 
of the brown 
man. They were 
certainly not 
tweeds he was 
wearing, and there 
was something 
very distinctly 
Egyptian about 
him. IVas he the 
figure on the wall, 
after all? Certainly 
his hair was rather 
oddly plaited, and 
his hat had the 
aspect of a curious 
canister from a 
grocer's shop. 
Also I began to 
doubt whether 
they were actually 
tight brown trou- 
sers or only the 

mural brick-brown of his not very fleshy legs. 
But he was very active, and he went about 
freely prodding the Cochins with a brass 
telescopic " stir-'em-up TJ to make them 

111 A FINK OLD t^Libtf CENT- 

as we've bred the tail 
it into a pair of white 

show their points 
for my instruction. 
« The Cochins," 
he went on, iJ are 
excellent for mis- 
cellaneous de- 
velopment. You 
know what the 
fanciers say " (I 
didn't) — "they 
say you can't put 
a Cochin in an 
unsuitable place. 
He's good all 
round, and he'll 
adapt himself to 
any conditions. 
Hell make a lot 
of useful breeds 
without much 
trouble, Just as 
we shall recruit 
our army from the 
game -fowl and 
Homlans, so we 
shall fill up the 
police force with 
Cochins as soon 
very small and turned 
cotton gloves sticking 

J a 5 


XXX 24. 

Jy Google 

out of the pocket. We have great hopes, 
too, of adding to our hardy sea-coast 
population. >igina | from 






" There is a certain safe and steady 
character about an old Cochin cock 
that should inspire confidence in the 
most timid tripper looking for a boat. 
As a music-hall vocalist, too, if we 
can only get his crow hoarse enough 
and loud enough, he should have a 
great future. Then as a City waiter 
we might do excellent business with 
him. They can't get City waiters fat 
enough nowadays — the old sort is 
dying out And then we can use up 

all the mistakes in breeding as dray- 
horses — look at their legs ! If only those 
motor-cars would keep off, we should 
have great times in the new Cochin days !" 
I frowned, but he went ahead— perhaps 
he hadn't meant it. u And we quite 
expect to get an old-fashioned inn -landlord 
or two," he said, "just accidentally among 
some of the broods, you know ; we're 
pretty near it already. It's a great thing 
to revive old institutions like this by 
breeding from poultry, isn't it ? And 






A LA-\I>L0KI>, 

money in it, too, I assure you — lots. Just a 
little trouble, and a little oats, and a few 
worms, and you draw all the waiter's tips, 


the landlord's bills, the policeman's mutton, 
and the princely salary of the music-hall 
singer ! I'm getting up a syndicate to run 
the notion. When we've bred a 
few more bantams into stock- 
brokers, I think we'll sell the 
idea for big money in Throg- 
morton Street" It was really 
very wonderful, and I began to 
feel an immense respect for the 
oddly-shaped birds in the cages 
before me. I had once longed 
for one of the telescopic brass 
11 stir-'em-ups " that fanciers use, 
but now I wouldn't have used one 
if I had it 

" See this black Spanish cock, 
now," pursued my guide* "Were 

Digilized by U009 IC 

experimenting with him. The idea is to 
make him a gentleman, It would be 
altogether a fancy breed, you understand, 
and of little use commercially, unless we 
could get them a few directorships and so 
forth. We thought they'd breed best into 
evening dress, constricting the plumage. 

We're also getting on very well with some 
more black Spanish, which we are gradually 
working up by successive generations, into 
nigger minstrels, The sands, you know, will 
be so good for them — excellent thing, 
sand, for fowls; and we calculate to 
produce in time a complete troupe from 
each sitting of eggs, So that, with a 
few good sitting hens, every popular 
seaside resort could be supplied in a very 






short time, and the net income would be 
enormous. I'm putting money in it. Won't 
you take shares?" For a moment I reflected 
on the shilling secured in the corner of my 
pocket-handkerchief. Was this an emergency? 
Perhaps it was. But I didn't dare. What 
would Maria say ? 

u But speaking of the black Spanish which 
we are developing into a gentleman," the 
brown man proceeded, "you see, we've 
managed to breed his black trousers some 
little way down his legs, and, although we 
have not yet developed a complete shirt, 
we have achieved a dickey. It was very nice 

and bright when he first came here, but after 
four days, you know, it's — well, it's a little 
dickey, as they say." I began to suspect 
the brown man of the low vice of punning. 
But he went on : "I expect he himself feels a 
little dickey (though he's really a large bird), 
after four days and nights in evening dress. 
One does, you know. Besides, he's the only 
person here in evening dress, and no doubt 
he feels uncomfortable in being so. That's 
natural in a gentleman. Oh, yes, we're 
bringing out the feelings of a gentleman, 
too, I assure you, though they're really useless 
—in fact, a dead loss, commercially. It's 

Original from 



an experiment, you know, — 
purely a fancy matter. Nothing 
of consequence, of course, 
compared to the policeman, or 
the niggers. We shall make 
money out of them. 

44 There'll be a deal of 
human labour saved, of 
course/ 3 he went on presently ; 
" but it's being compensated 
for in other ways. You see, 
what with incubators and 
foster-mothers, and one thing 
and another, fowls get very 
little of their own old-fashioned 
work to do nowadays, and 
they must find some new 
outlet Why, they do say 
there are some fowls now who 
don't even lay their own eggs ! 
So that they must do some- 
thing to occupy their time. 
It would be foolish to let 
them waste their efforts in 
mere amusement — they'd go " 
playing the piano, and singing, 
and reading novels by Miss 
— - — but, there, never mind 
who. As it is, they'll be 
bred up to decent trades, 
and we'll take their profits, 
see ? That's what I call keep- 
ing up with the spirit of the times. That's 
the watchword of progress. Improve, im- 
prove, improve ; make the world, and the 
poultry in it, better, happier, cleverer— and 
scoop in the profit for the syndicate. This 


Vol. kUU — 40- 


sort of benevolence doesn't amount to much 
unless it is run on strictly business lines. 
Our chief difficulty, of course, will be, while 
we make the cocks and hens clever enough 
to carry on all our work for us cheap, to take 

care that they don't 
get clever enough to 
demand wages, and go 
striking, and all that. 
There is a danger, 
although it isn't very 
apparent as yet* Com- 
ing up here from the 
country teaches them a 
great deal. Why, do 
you know, when the 
electric light was 
turned on the first 
evening, I heard a 
white Leghorn and a 
1-angshan disputing 
like anything. * What's 
the time? 1 asks one. 
* I don't know/ says 
the other * Why, hang 
it,' says the first,- ( I 
nalfroBPt through all my 




day's crowing hours ago, and here's 

another blessed sun I ' Hut they've learnt 

better by this. They get more knowing 

ewry i lay of the show, and the humanizing 

influence will land them a long way ahead 

in shrewdness presently. 

The thing we must take 

care of, as I have said, 

is to get all we can out 

of them before they get 

too clever to stand it 

At present they are only 

at a fair average of 

ordinary intelligence. 

We're closing to-night, 

and you'll find all the 

more intelligent and cul- 

tivated breeds looking over the eligible coops 
and desirable troughs and runs that they 
show there at the end, with the idea ot 
taking home a new residence. And last 
of all, when everybody's worn out and tired 
to death, and seedy 
as caraway, you'll find 
some respectable old 
couple stranded on the 
inhospitable railway plat- 
form — having lost their 
last train as naturally 
and intelligently as any 
pair of human beings you 
can name ! Ob, I tell 
you, we're doing a lot for 
progress in poultry ! " 

(To ht continued,) 

by Google 

Original from 


By James Workman. 

HE judge had dined, and was 
enjoying an after-dinner cigar, 
before turning to a pile of 
papers that lay on the table at 
his elbow. Yet even as he 
watched the flickering fire, 
and puffed dreamily at his cigar, luxuriating 
in a little relaxation alter a hard day's work 
in a close and crowded court, his mind was 
busy formulating the scathing sentences in 
which he intended to sum up a case that had 
been tried that day. There could be no 
doubt as to the guilt of the prisoner, who had 
been accused of a most impudent fraud, and 
though it was a first offence, the judge 
intended to pass the severest sentence which 
the law allowed. 

The judge was no believer in short 
sentences. He regarded leniency to a 
criminal as an offence against society, a 
direct encouragement to those who hesitated 
on the brink of vicious courses, and were only 
restrained by fear of punishment. The well- 
meaning people who got up petitions to 
mitigate the sentence upon a justly convicted 
thief or murderer were, in his eyes, guilty of 
mawkish sentimentality- There was no trace 
of weakness or effeminacy in his own face, 
with its grizzled eyebrows, somewhat cold, 
grey eyes, thin lips, and massive chin. He 
was a just man, just to the splitting of a 
hair, but austere and unemotional. 

He had conducted the trial with the most 

Digitized by Vj 

scrupulous impartiality, but now that a 
verdict of guilty was a foregone conclusion, he 
determined to make an example of one who 
had so shamefully abused the confidence 
placed in him. 

Stated briefly, the situation was as follows. 
The prisoner, Arthur Maxwell, was cashier to 
a firm of solicitors, Messrs. Lightbody and 
Dufton. The only surviving partner of the 
original firm, Mr. Lightbody, had recently 
died, leaving the business to his nephew, 
Thomas Faulkner. Faulkner accused Arthur 
Maxwell of having embezzled a sum of ^2 50* 
Maxwell admitted having taken the money, 
but positively asserted that it had been 
presented to him as a free gift by Mr. 
Lightbody. Unfortunately for the prisoner, 
the letter which he had stated had accom- 
panied the cheque could not be produced, 
and Faulkner, supported by the evidence 
of several well-known experts, declared 
the signature on the cheque to be a 
forgery. When the cheque - book was 
examined the counterfoil was discovered 
to be blank. The prisoner asserted that Mr. 
Lightbody had himself taken out a blank 
cheque and had filled it up and signed it at 
his private residence. He could, however, 
produce no proof of this assertion, and all 
the evidence available was opposed to his 
unsupported statement 

" Arthur Maxwell, 1 * soliloquized the judge, 
lt you have been convicted on evidence that 




leaves no shadow of a doubt of your guilt of 
a crime which I must characterize as one of 
the basest " 

The chattering of voices in the hall 
brought the soliloquy to an abrupt conclusion. 
The judge required absolute silence and 
solitude when he was engaged in study, and 
the servants, who stood in considerable awe 
of him, were extremely careful to prevent the 
least disturbance taking place within earshot 
of his sanctum. He jerked the bell im- 
patiently, intending to give a good " wigging " 
to those responsible for the disturbance. 

But the door was thrown open by his 
daughter Mabel, a pretty girl of twelve, who 
was evidently in a state of breathless excite- 

" Oh, papa ! " she exclaimed, " here's such 
a queer little object wants to see you. Please 
let her come in." 

Before the judge could remonstrate, a little 
child, a rosy-faced girl of between five and 
six, in a red hood and cloak, hugging a black 
puppy under one arm and a brown paper 
parcel under the other, trotted briskly into 
the room. 

The judge rose to his feet with an expres- 
sion which caused his daughter to vanish 
with remarkable celerity. The door closed 
with a bang. He could hear her feet scurry- 
ing rapidly upstairs, and he found himself 
alone with the small creature before him. 

" What on earth are you doing here, 
child ? " he asked,- irritably. " What can 
you possibly want with me?" She remained 
silent, staring at him with round, frightened 
eyes. " Come, come, can't you find your 
tongue, little girl?" he asked, more gently. 
" What is it you want with me ? " 

" If you please," she said, timidly, " I've 
brought you Tommy." 

Tommy was clearly the fat puppy, for as 
she bent her face towards him he wagged his 
tail and promptly licked the end of her nose. 

The judge's eyes softened in spite of him- 

" Come here," he said, sitting down, " and 
tell me all about it." 

She advanced fearlessly towards him, as 
animals and children always did in his un- 
official moods. 

"This is Tommy, I suppose?" he said, 
taking the puppy on his knee, where it 
expressed its delight by ecstatic Contortions 
of the body, and appeared to consider his 
watch-chain a fascinating article of diet. 

" I've broughted you other things as well," 
she said, opening the brown paper parcel, and 
revealing a doll with a very beautiful corn- 

Dicjiiizcd by 

plexion, large blue eyes, and hair of the 
purest gold, a diminutive Noah's Ark, a 
white pig, a woolly sheep, a case of crayons, a 
penholder, a broken - bladed knife, a small 
paint-box, a picture-book or two, and what 
bore some faint resemblance to a number of 
water-colour sketches. She seemed particu- 
larly proud of the last-named. 

" I painted them all by myself," she 

The judge thought it not unlikely, as he 
glanced with twinkling eyes at the highly 
unconventional forms and daring colours of 
these strikingly original works of art. 

" Well," he said, " it is very kind of you to 
bring me all these pretty things, but why do 
you want to give them to me ? " 

"I — I don't want to give them to you," 
she faltered. 

The judge regarded her with very friendly 
eyes. He was so used to hearing romantic 
deviations from the truth from the lips of 
imaginative witnesses, that frankness was at 
all times delightful to him. 

"Come," said he, with a quiet laugh, 
" that's honest, at least. Well, why do you 
give them to me if you don't want to ? " 

" HI give them to you, and Tommy too " — 
the words were accompanied by a very wistful 
glance at the fat puppy — "if — if you'll 
promise not to send poor papa to prison." 

A silence, such as precedes some awful 
convulsion of Nature, pervaded the room 
for several seconds after this audacious 
proposal. Even Tommy, as though cowering 
before the outraged majesty of the law, 
buried his head between the judge's coat and 
vest, and lay motionless except for a pro- 
pitiatory wag of his tail. 

" What is your name, child ? " asked the 
judge, grimly. 

"Dorothy Maxwell," faltered the little 
girl, timidly, awed by the sudden silence and 
the perhaps unconsciously stern expression 
upon his lordship's face. 

" Dorothy Maxwell," said the judge, 
severely, as though the little figure before 
him were standing in the prisoner's dock 
awaiting sentence, "you have been convicted 
at the close of the nineteenth century of the 
almost unparalleled crime of attempting to 
corrupt one of Her Majesty's judges, to 
persuade him, by means of bribery, to defeat 
the ends of justice. I shall not further 
enlarge upon the enormity of your crime. 
Have you anything to say why sentence 

should not be No, no, don't cry. Poor 

little thing, I didn't mean to frighten you. 
I'm not the leasn": bit: angry with you — really 




and truly. Come and sit on my knee, and 
show me all these pretty things. Get down, 
you little beast" 

The last words were addressed to Tommy, 
who fell with a flop on the floor, and was 
replaced on the judge's knee by his little 

"This is very like condoning a criminal 
offence/' thought the judge to himself with a 
grim smile, as he wi[>ed the tears from the 
poor little creature's face, and tried to interest 
her in the contents of the brown paper 


parcel. But the thoughts the tears had 
aroused did not vanish with them. Arthur 
Maxwell was no longer a kind of impersonal 
representative of the criminal classes, to be 
dealt with as severely as the law allowed in 
the interests of society in general He was 
the father of this soft, plump, rosy-rheekcd, 
blue -eyed, golden -haired little maid, who 
would inevitably have to share, now or 
in the future, her father's humiliation and 
disgrace* For the first time, perhaps, the 
judge felt a pang of pity for the wretched 
man who at that moment was probably 
pacing his cell in agonizing apprehension 

of the inevitable verdict A vivid pic* 
ture started up before him of the prisoner's 
white face, twitching lips, and tragic eyes. 
He remembered his own emotion when he 
first sentenced a fellow - creature to penal 
servitude. Had he grown callous since then ? 
Did he take sufficiently into account the 
frailty of human nature, the brevity of 
life, the far-reaching consequences that the 
fate of the most insignificant unit of humanity 
must entail ? 

At this moment the door opened, and his 
wife, a slender, graceful 
woman, considerably 
younger than himself, 
with a refined, delicate 
face, came quietly in, 

"Ah," exclaimed the 
judge, with a sudden 
inspiration, u I believe 
you are the bottom of 
all this, Agnes. What 
is this child doing 

" You are not vexed, 
Matthew ? " she asked, 

" Hardly that," he 
answered, slowly; €i but 
what good can it do? 
It is impossible to ex- 
plain the situation tc 
this poor little mite. 
It was cruel to let 
her come on such an 
errand* How did she 
get here ? J} 

" It was her own 
idea — entirely her own 
idea ; but her mother 
brought her, and asked 
to see me. The poor 
woman was distracted, 
nearly frantic with 
grief and despair, and 
ready to clutch at any straw. She was so 
dreadfully miserable, poor thing, and I 
thought it was such a patty idea, 1 I 
couldn't refuse her, Matthew." 

"But, my dear,' 1 expostulated the judge, 
"you must have that it could do no 

*'I — I knew what the verdict would be," 
answered his wife. " I read a report of the 
trial in an evening paper. But, then, there 
was the sentence, you know— and— and I 
thought the poor child might soften* you a 
little, Matthew/' 

The judge's Mfi3 ,T fetrayed mechanically 




among the toys, and to interest the child he 
began to examine one of the most vivid of - 
her pictorial efforts, 

11 You think I am very hard and unjust, 
Agnes ? " he asked. 

* £ No, no, no," she answered, hurriedly ; 
" not unjust, never unjust There is not a 
more impartial judge upon the Bench — the 
whole world says it. But don't you think, 
dear, that justice without — without mercy is 
always a little hard ? Don't, don't be angry, 
Matthew, I never spoke to you like this 
before. I wouldn't now but for the poor 
woman in the next room and the innocent 
little thing at jour knee." 

The judge made no reply. He bent still 
more closely over the scarlet animal straying 
amid emerald fields, and burnt umber trees 
of a singularly original shape, 

"That's a cow," said Dorothy, proudly. 
u Don't you see its horns?— and that's its tail 
— it isn't a tree. There's a cat on the other 
side. I can draw cats better than cows." 

In her anxiety to exhibit her artistic abilities 
in their higher manifestations she took the 
paper out of his hands, and presented the 

"Here's the very letter Maxwell declared 
he had received from Lightbody along with 
the cheque, His reference to it, as he 
couldn't produce it, did him more harm than 
good ; but I believe it's genuine, upon my 
word I do. Listen j it's dated from The 
Hollies, Lightbody's private address : — 

11 ' My dear Maxwell* — I have just heard 
from the doctor that my time here will be 
very short, and I am trying to arrange my 
affairs as quickly as possible, I have long 
recognised the unostentatious, but thorough 
and entirely satisfactory, manner in which 
you have discharged your duties, and as 
some little and perhaps too tardy recognition 
of your long and faithful services, and as a 
token of my personal esteem for you, I hope 
you will accept the inclosed cheque for 
^"250. With best wishes for your future, 
believe me, yours sincerely, 

" ' Thomas Lightbody.' 

•* What do you think of that ? I'll send it 
round to Maxwell's solicitor at once." 

"Oh, Matthew, then the poor fellow's 
innocent, after all ? " 

" It looks like it If this letter is genuine, 


opposite side. At first I12 glanced at it 
listlessly, and then his eyes suddenly flashed, 
and he examined it with breathless interest 

" Well, I'm blessed ! w he exclaimed, ex- 

It was not a very judicial utterance, but 
the circumstances were exceptional 

Siiized by ViOOglC 

he certainly is. There, don't look miserable 
again, I'm sure it is. If it had been a 
forgery, you may be sure it would have been 
ready for production at a moment's notice. 
Where did you get this paper, little girl ? " 

Dorothy blushed guiltily and hung her 




*' I took it out of pa's desk. I — I wanted 
some paper to draw on, and I took it without 
asking. You won't tell him, will you ? He'll 
be ever so cross. }i 

u Well, we may perhaps have to let him 
know about it, my dear ; but I don't think 
he'll be a bit cross. Now, this lady will take 
you to your mother, and you can tell her 
that papa won't go to prison, and that he'll 
be home to-morrow nighL" 

He kissed her, and his wife held out her 
hand. But Dorothy lingered, with hanging 
head and twitching lips, 

" May I — may 1 say good-bye to Tommy, 
please ? " she faltered. 

11 You sweet little thing," exclaimed his 
wife, kissing her impulsively. 

"Tommy's going with you," said the 
judge, laughing kindly. "I wouldn ? t deprive 
you of Tommy's company for Tommy's 
weight in gold. I fancy there are limits to 
the pleasure which Tommy and I would 
derive from each other's society. There, run 
away, and take Tommy with you." 

Dorothy eagerly pursued the fat puppy, 
captured him after an exciting chase, and 
took him in her arms, Then she walked 
towards the door, but the corner of her eye 
rested wistfully on the contents of the 
brown paper parcel. The judge hastily 
gathered the toys, rolled them up in the 
paper, and presented them to her. But 
Dorothy looked disappointed. The thought 
of giving them to purchase her father's pardon 
had been sweet as well as 
bitter. She was willing to 
compromise in order to 
escape the pang that the 
loss of Tommy and the 
doll and the paint-box 
and other priceless trea- 
sures would have inflicted 3 
but she still wished — 
poor little epitome of our 

complex human nature — to taste the joy of 
heroic self-sacrifice. Besides, she was afraid 
that the judge might after all refuse to 
pardon her father if she took away all the 
gifts with which she had attempted to 
propitiate him. 

She put the parcel on a chair and opened it 
out. Holding the wriggling puppy in her arms, 
she gazed at her treasures, trying to make up 
her mind which she could most easily part 
with that woi^d be sufficiently valuable in the 
judge's eyes to accomplish her purpose. 
Finally, she selected the sheep, and presented 
the luxuriantly woolly, almost exa&peratingly 
meek-looking, animal to the judge, 

M You may have that and the pretty 
picture for bein* kind to papa/ 1 she said, 
with the air of one who confers inestimable 

He was about to decline the honour, but, 
catching his wife's eye, he meekly accepted 
it, and Dorothy and the puppy and the 
brown paper parcel disappeared through the 

" Well, well/' said the judge, with a queer 
smile, as he placed the fluffy white sheep on 
the mantelpiece, u I never thought I should 
he guilty of accepting a bribe, but we never 
know what we may come to." 

The next day Maxwell was acquitted, and 
assured by the judge that he left the court 
without a stain upon his character. The 
following Christmas, Dorothy received a 
brown paper parcel containing toys of the 
most wonderful description 
from an unknown friend ; 
and it was asserted by his 
intimates that ever after- 
wards the judge's sentences 
seldom erred on the side 
of severity, and that he 
was disposed, whenever 
possible, to give a prisoner 
the benefit of the doubt. 

by Google 

Original from 



By William G, FitzGerald. 

HEY are of very ancient date. 
It has been stated that the 
various colossal skeletons that 
come to light f~om time to 
time are merely the remains 
of prehistoric side - shows — 
giants, in fact 3 that were in former times 
exhibited at one stone axe per "time." 
However this may be, side-shows have long 
flourished, and, doubt less, will continue to 
flourish so long as inquisitiveness remains a 
part of our nature. 

Shows of all sorts thrive exceedingly on 

show, by the way. Advertisement being the 
very breath of the showman's nostrils, you 
will also notice lurid lithographs on the side 
of the car, so that the whole makes a stirring 
ensemble as the train enters a great terminus, 
with perhaps the bearded lady as engine- 
driver, and the pig-faced gentleman astride 
one of the buffers. 

The born showman is so earnest in 
manner and gesticulation, so leathern of 
lung, and so profuse — not to say incoherent 
— in opulent adjectives before potential 
patrons, that he at length believes implicitly 

Frma a PhuU\ h& \ 

iPJBCIAL THAI?* bEUONtiJNG TO COUFfc's TKAYELLLNG SHOW. \3i. G r Omcnr* AtliintiU Gti, 

American soil— and coin, Barnum was a 
millionaire several times over during his 
wonderful career ; and Adam Forepaugh had 
more money than he knew what to do with. 
Travelling shows in the United States are 
conducted on a tremendous scale. The staff 
may number hundreds, and then there are 
the human freaks (ever jealously guarded 
from the non-paying eye), the huge menagerie, 
ami hundreds of horses of all kinds, from 
the hfflite-ecole Arab right down to bony 
lt Jimmy," who drags a van. 

No wonder they require special trains ! 
The photo, reproduced above shows the 
passenger part of one of thesi-. The 
centre panel of the great Pullman car 
is adorned with a modest portrait of 
the proprietor of the show — or " director- 
general, 3 ' as he loves to be styled. He 
probably owns the whole train, as well as the 


in every statement he himself makes. Such 
a one was Coxswain Terry, shrewdest of 
sailors, who owns the show next depicted. 
It was announced as " a 'air-raisin' pifform- 
ance " ; and certainly it was a little uncanny, 
though not exactly up to the standard of the 
pictures hung outside. These depicted a 
gigantic individual, apparently in the last 
throes of death beneath a tropical sea, and 
surrounded by every conceivable (and incon- 
ceivable) denizen of the deep. Sword -fish 
and shark, whale and octopus — all were 
attacking him with staggering unanimity. 

Visitors to this side-show see a tank con- 
taining 500 gallons of water — positively 
guaranteed not to burst and nearly drown the 
spectators, as similar tanks have often done* 
The water is heated by gas overnight to a 
temperature of about 90 degrees, and into it 
are thrown 3hsq PTa WWW! good-sized pythons 




or rock-snakes (some over 12ft. long), who 
protest fiercely against the whole thing* 
They would leave the water forthwith, were 
it not for the strong wire-netting on top of 
the tank. 

Presently a man, young and scantily clad, 
appears at the back He removes half the 
wire-netting and drops into the water among 
the snakes, They instantly twine themselves ' 
about his legs, his waist, his arms, and his 
neck ; but some, more knowing than the 
rest, neglect him altogether, and endeavour 
to hurry out of the hated element. 

a fortnight, each snake takes a rest and a 
meal, the latter consisting of live rabbi ts 3 
birds, and rats. 

The baby, Thomas Sabin, whose portrait 
next appears, was a great blessing to his 
parents, who were people of no great weight, 
either in the literal or social acceptance of 
the term. For years he brought them ten 
pounds a week, his weight increasing;, but his 
age almost standing stilL He has a nice 
face, but few would care to dandle him on 
their knee. As we see him in the photo., 
this phenomenal baby is just turned two 


A confederate mingles with the crowd in 
order to warn the submerged performer when 
one of the reptiles is halF-wayout^ to help 
him when he is severely bitten (as he 
frequently is) ; and to render assistance when 
he is in clanger of being strangled by a 
python about his throat 

The performance is one wild, whirling 
struggle with the writhing reptiles — sinking 
to the bottom from time to time with an 
armful ot them, merely to drag them hither 
and thither to keep up the excitement and 
give patrons valuta for money. About once 

zed by boogie 

Vol. jiUl-41 

years of age, and weighs nearly eight stone. 
The child was born in Banbury, and was in 
no way remarkable for some considerable 
time- At length, however, little Tommy 
began to put on flesh so rapidly, that his 
parents } alarmed, sent for the local doctor, 
who in turn summoned a specialist from 
London, All this, of course, created some 
sensation, and in due time the inevitable 
showman came along with tempting offers. 

It is more or less well known that vigilant 
agents are for ever scouring the universe, 
from Whirechaj^frfft-,-, Central Africa, for 




Fvt»\\ a I'tuttt*. Iff Itudyt, Pltfiuurtth. 

freaks of Nature — *' refined freaks," as one 
showman remarked, whatever he meant by 
that The iamous "dime museum" is the 
habitat of human freaks ; and CT 
America is the home of the dime 
museum. You will find one or 
more of these interesting insti- 
tutions in every considerable 
town from Maine to California. 
The proprietor takes an empty 
shop or store in the principal 
street, rigs up a circular platform, 
and seats the freaks thereupon. 
Some waxworks or a cage of 
monkeys or lions are provided 
by way of adventitious free attrac- 
tions ; and perhaps there will be 
a "bijou theatre" at one side, 
in which fifteen minutes* per 
formance is given at intervals; 
this latter, however, is an extra. 
But the freaks are the mainstay 
of the show. There they sit all 
day, beaming sympathetically on 
the inquisitive crowds who surge 
around them. There are fat 
ladies, Siamese twins, and skeleton 
men, bearded ladies and elastic- 
skinned people; giants and 
dwarfs ; armless artists, and cave- 
dwelling pigmies ; girls with hair 

of phenomenal length ; people half black 
and half white ; and countless other mon- 
strosities whom to see is a nightmare. 

Every half-hour the official lecturer clears 
his raucous throat and proceeds to deliver 
the history of each freak, with many an 
impressive flourish, whilst the freak himself 
(or herself) glares down with conscious pride 
on his throng of admirers. Such is the typical 
dime museum. 

The skeleton man, next seen, has been the 
round of innumerable shows in the Old and 
New Worlds, His wife and son are photo- 
graphed with him j and are in no wise abnor- 
mal. On the other hand, freaks- particularly 
midgets — often marry among themselves, 
mainly for business reasons. 

The etiquette of the side-show holds a 
superabundance of clothing highly improper 
Freaks . must exhibit a good deal of their 
person in puris natnralilms^ so as to do away 
with any suspicion of humbug. For the 
side-show cannot exist in an atmosphere 
of scorn and doubt ; enthusiasm, energy, 
earnestness — these are the notes that herald 
success and fortune. 

By no meanS the least curious of the 
American side-shows is the kiosk of the 
professional paper -tearer, which is seen in 
the next illustration. The entire facade of 
this elaborate little structure is made wholly 

\N|) SUN, 




Ffi/tn a PhQto. by fiobitwott it itu* + Chicago 

of paper torn into shape by the Professor 
himself, who boasts of using no other imple- 
ments whatever than bin own ten fingers- 
This is certainly very wonderful when one 
looks closely into the photograph and studies 
the delicate lace- work ; the arch and columns 
and ornaments, 
and the flower- 
pots and birds 
within— all made 
of paper torn with 
the fingers. 

But this unique 
artist had a some- 
what ignoble end 
in view ; as a fact, 
he sold a patent 
blacking, using his 
stall and his handi- 
work as a lure for 
the unwary, who 
were ultimately 
almost forced to 

"Miraklus Con- 
tinental Sensation. 
The Mawvel o' the 
Age* A wild, fiery 
Hafriean Elephant 
valkiiV on the 

tight-rope, an' a dawncin* on a row o' 
bottles." Thus overwhelmingly was our 
next side-show announced to the ex- 
pectant crowd. What the wild, fiery 
one did do is seen in the photograph ; 
and it certainly is an interesting spectacle 
to see the enormous brute picking its 
way with patient care along the "bottles," 
which, as one may judge, are massive 
blocks of wood mounted on substantial 
planks. There is a platform at either 
end, and on to this the elephant steps 
with an unmistakable air of relief, 
after having accomplished the perilous 

There is still a mint of money in 
the side-show business. Tom Thumb 
received ^150 a week, yet his presence 
(scarcely "services," since he did nothing 
but strut about the platform) was worth 
double that sum to his proprietor. 

It was the famous freak - hunter, 
Farini, who introduced to the I^ondon 
public Zazel — *'a beautiful lady shot 
from a monstrous cannon." Zazel was 
paid ^100 a week at the Royal 
Aquarium, The cannon itself, I gather, 
was a French patent concern ; it was 
made of wood, painted to resemble 
steel. Inside there was an ingenious arrange- 
ment of powerful india - rubber springs, 
which acted upon the plate on which 
Za^el herself stood. The lady got right 
into the cannon and lay upon her back, her 
feet resting upon the plate that was to propel 




a case in point. His real name — 
like the birth of Jeames — is " wropt 
up in a niistry." However, this 
photograph proves that the man 
can throw himself into most amaz- 
ingly bizarre postures* It is an 
interesting fact, by the way, that 
photography plays a very important 
part in the lives of professionals of 
this sort Suppose they live in 
Vienna, and want an engagement 
in London, They give their best 
possible show in a photographer's 
studio, and then send a complete 
set of photos* to the Ijyndou agents, 
supplementing this photographic 
record of their entertainment with 
a full written description. The 
agents, in turn, place the photos, 
before the managers of the variety 
theatres ; and thus an engagement 
may be definitely fixed without the 
performer leaving his home in a 
distant part of Europe. 

It is difficult to say whether male 
or female contortionists ("benders," 
as they call themselves) are the 
more successful in assuming strange 
and fearful attitudes ; certain it is 
that Knotella is run pretty close by 
a charming young lady whose pro- 
fessional name is Leonora, Clad in 

MO K S-T Kl>L< H CA HMO N , 

From a PHvto r by the Ltmdwi Uterwwoiric Cu 

her. The whole thing was made 
wonderfully impressive. The show- 
man called for perfect silence at so 
^-nnus a moment, and the band 
stopped playing. A flaming torch 
was applied to a fuse and there 
w; i s a t e r r i fi c e x plo si o n — a u /side the 
can mm. Simultaneously " the beau- 
tiful woman " flew out from the 
muzzle some thirty-five feet, and 
ultimately dropped into the net 

There is one peculiarity common 
to all freaks and human curiosities. 
Directly they enter the show busi- 
ness, they assume another name — a 
name more or less appropriate or 
descriptive, Thus, midgets will be 
** billed" as Princess Topaz, or 
Little Dot j or Captain Tiny ; and 
fat ladies as Madame Tunwate, or 
some such inelegant but suggestive 

'* Knotella," the contortionist, is 


¥rm 4JN+V B^^r**^ ^K^biM^ 




From a t'ivAo.hyX 


lAfaqrAflTH r£ £afri*w T y»*i\uj*U>irn. 

snaky, scaly tights, Leonora throws herself 
into postures that simply baffle description. 

In the first photo, the lady is seen in an 
extraordinary attitude of quiet contemplation, 
her body hidden altogether. In the next 



• - ■ ^ 






Ullf ^l 

* r ■ 







From tf Phpto. It Mtaeham A Sabin^ Yovwntvvn. 

she has formed herself into a kind of ship, with 
a decidedly prepossessing figure-head. This 
contortionist tells me she practises inces sandy, 
and is for ever trying to devise some new 
and startling posture which, without being in 
any way repulsive to an audience, will yet 
demonstrate the marvellous pliability of the 
human frame. 

The pony, lamb, and dog seen in the 
accompanying photograph are a diminutive 
trio, and they go through their performance 
without extraneous assistance of any sort 
A highly ornamental kind of stall is provided 
for the pony, and, standing in this, he faces 
the audience* On a plush-covered canopy 
over his back stands the lamb ? whilst the dog 
sits on a sort of third story above. Presently, 
out trots the pony for a gallop round, and as 
he passes the tier of canopies for the third 
time, the lamb skilfully leaps down on to his 

broad back. Then comes another round or 
two of this jockeying, and when the little dog 
thinks the public are in need of a new sensa- 
tion, down he jumps on to the lamb's back, 
and round they all go, looking as if they really 
enjoyed it In turn the riders watch their 
opportunity and regain their platforms, and at 
length the pony backs into the lower stall, to 
receive his share of well-merited applause. 

Mr. John Chambers, the u Armless 
Wonder," when not side -showing, keeps a 
comfortable little shop at 69 7 a, Old Kent 
Road. The famous Indian Armless Boy, who 
created such a sensation in America, didn't 
have to shave, or travel on the railway by 
himself, or use a latch-key, or put on 
boots, or read the daily papers, or write 
letters, or make himself useful in the house as 
becomes the father of grown-up girls. Mr. 
Chambers does all these things, and more. 
Never shall I forget his performance before 






which ordinary men do with their 
hands that Mr, Chambers cannot 
do with his feet He owes the in- 
ception of his invaluable training 
to his m other t who, as she saw her 
bahy kicking on the hearth-rug — as 
babies will — conceived the idea of 
teaching him to use his feet as other 
children do their hands. 

The result of life-long practice in 
this direction is perfectly astounding 
Look at Mr, Chambers shaving 
himself, in the first photograph. 
The plentiful lathering, the sure 
touch and sweep of the keen razor 
over throat and face- these must 
be seen to be realized, 1 have 
hinted that Mr, Chambers is useful 
in the house. He uses with his 
feet mallet and chisel s saw and 
hammer, as well as any expert 
carpenter; and he points with 
justifiable pride to floor-cloths laid, 
and meat-safes, writing-desks, and 
other domestic articles manufac- 
tured entirely by himself, 

Chambers is one of a family of 
six boys, and all his brothers are 
perfectly formed. The second 
photograph shows this wonderful 
armless man having a little musical 
evening at home. He is playing 
the comet, whilst his eldest daughter 
presides at the piano. I repeat, there is 

a railway booking-office. He asked for 

ticket, and while the clerk was getting it, the virtually nothing that Mr. Chambers cannot 
right laceless shoe 
was ofify followed 
by the stocking, 
revealing a won- 
drously white, 
sensitive foot, 
with a wedding- 
ring on the second 
toe* Like light- 
ning this foot was 
lifted and dipped 
into the low in- 
side pocket of an 
Inverness cape, 
and next moment, 
with the produc- 
tion of the ticket, 
the exact fare was 
"planked "smartly 
down on the 

There is hardly 
a single thing 


l tviWHainai rrom 


3 2 7 

/^Z^ 2 ^^ 

V yC^aL+^aC- 

do with his feet* 
Mr, Chambers also 
conducts his own 
business and private, 
That he writes a very 
creditable " hand " 
will be evident from 
the following speci- 
men, which he was 
good enough to write 
specially for this 

Kert i-ouw, the 
Bushman Chief, is 
the next side-show to 
figure in our gallery. 
Here is his story in 
brief, A great show- 
man, who must be 
na m el ess, cha need 
to ue exhibiting a 
Zulu troupe in 

London, when he was approached by a 
certain South African millionaire, financially 
interested in side-shows. "Why don't you 
bring over some pigmy earth men?** suggested 
the millionaire ; and the suggestion found 
favour in the sight of the showman. He 
accordingly dispatched an expedition, whose 
leader was instructed to proceed to Cape 
Town, and work northwards from there in 
search of the pigmy races. The expedition 
was assisted by the Cape Government officials. 
Said one of these latter : " Apply to Kert 
Louw, the Bushman Chief of the Kalahari 
Desert ; he will get a whole tribe for you, 
if you like," But Kert Louw 
was not in favour at the time, 
and so was not easy to find. 
As a fact, a price of ^100 
was put on his head by the 
Cape Government, to w T hom 
he was something of a 
scourge by reason of mail 
robberies and murders on a 
huge scale. 

But promises and guaran- 
tees at length brought the 
chief from his hiding-place, 
and he agreed to produce 
so many M earth men n in 
return for a stated number 
of sheep and goats, and a 
quantity of tobacco, powder, 
and Cape M smoke," or vile 

Thus the expedition was 
successful. In fact, it not 

£aX*JF£ J3^Lw 




specimen ryy aiR. ciiamhiirss wrItinc; with his fwt. 

only carried off the so-called earth men, but 
it also managed to smuggle out of the country 
Kert Louw himself; and the Bushman Chiefs 
photo, is here reproduced. Clad in unac- 
customed garb, he became part of the show ; 
and he only secured his release and return to 
his native wilds by a ruse quite in keeping 
with the cunning indicated in his villainous 
countenance. Having noticed that the show- 
man - in - chief was passionately fond of 
diamonds, Kert Louw took him aside one 
day and assured him by all his gods that he 
knew of a diamond mine that would utterly 
efface the fame of Kimberley. 

The showman subse- 
quently announced to his 
subordinates that he was 
about to re visit Africa, ac- 
companied by the Bushman, 
on another fteak hunt. So 
Kert Louw was taken out to 
the Cape in the gorgeous 
state-room of a Union liner, 
and conveyed up country in 
grand style — only to dis- 
appear from the showman's 
side and be lost in the 
wilderness. It was not a 
freak hunt, nor even a mine 
hunt— merely a wild-goose 

The three photographs 
next reproduced of Sadi 
Alfarabij and his striking 
"business," give an excellent 

k' ., L LOUW— THE I^SliMA 

tim^siTyW^L°ra the6reatl,ro 



fessional equilibrists of the world can ac- 
complish. Sadi is a Russian by birth, and 
every single member of his family was an 
acrobat, each vying with the other in devis- 
ing startling feats wherewith 
to take Europe by storm. 

In the first photo, we see 
Sadi standing on his hands 
on the summit of a miniature 
Eiffel lower 30ft. high. A 
shaded oiHamp is balanced 
on the back of his head ; 
and as the point that supports 



him is mov- 
able, he re- 
volves slowly 
on his peril- 
ous eminence. 
The second 
photo, shows the 
peculiarly difficult 


equilibrist performing a 
feat — walking on his 
hands on four billiard cues, his legs perfectly 
perpendicular in the air. He tells me that 
this hurts his hands exceedingly, and is 
likewise a severe strain on the muscles of the 
back, The third feat of the Russian per- 
former shown here is considered the most 

difficult ever attempted by an equilibrist. It 
is really a very miracle of balancing, The 
chairs are in no sense trick chairs ; 
they are not particularly light or frail, but 
sclidity and weight are absolutely necessary 
to the accomplishment of such a feat This 
photograph, as well as others, gives one an 
idea of the trouble which foreign speciality 
artistes take to insure that their photographs 
shall do them justice. There is the labour 
of dressing; the conveyance to the studio 
of all necessary' " properties " ; and last, 
but by no means least, the actual successful 
accomplishment of the feat, which must be 
sustained until after the crucial moment of 
uncovering the lens* And after all this 
the photos, may be utter failures ! While I 
am on this subject, I may mention that on 
one occasion, in Buda Pesth, Sadi Alfarabi, 
whilst posing for the chair feat, incontinently 
collapsed in the photographer's studio, A 
fresh camera was afterwards necessary, like- 
wise a fresh photographer. 

A maxvsujow BALANCING ACT. 
I'nun Phoittt. h$ Latvian ** Pvwer*. ClqFi/urnta. 

(Ta he continued.) 

[I have quite a budget of grateful acknowledgments to make*to the following well-known impresario* and entertainment 
caterers. For the loan of their interesting photos, reproduced in this article: Messrs. Warner and Co., of Wellington Street; 
Nathan and Summers, to, Henrietta Street ; W* R Healey and Son, 17, Great Marlborough Street ; J. Woolf, of " Wonderland," 
WhittcMpel ; and Read and Bailey, of ihe Agricultural Hall. J 


From Behind the Speaker s Chair. 



IN this, its third Session, it 
faded becomes more than ever clear 
stars, that the Fourteenth Parliament 
of Queen Victoria will not vary 
the level of respectable commonplace which 
has prevailed in the House of Commons in 
recent times. As far as individuality is con- 
cerned, the Parliament of 1874-80 marks 
the high tide. That was the assembly that 
provided a platform on which were played the 
high jinks of Major O'Gorman, Mr. Biggar, 
Mr. Frank Hugh O'Donnell, Dr. Kenealy, Sir 
John Astley, Mr. Tom Connelly, Mr. David 
Davies, Mr. Delahunty, with his one-pound 
notes ; Mr. McCarthy Downing, Mr. Plimsoll, 
and his famous achievement of standing on 
one leg and shaking his fist at the Speaker ; 
Sir John Elphinstone, Mr. David Mclver, 
honest John Martin, the Chevalier O'Clery, 
J. P. Ronayne, one of the wittiest of Irish- 
men ; Dr. O'Leary, whose vote Dizzy won at 
a critical epoch by telling him almost with 
tears in his eyes how he reminded 
him of "my old friend Tom Moore"; 
Captain Stackpoole, Mr. Smollet, great 
grand nephew of the novelist and historian, 
who effectively reproduced in the House the 
manners of Humphrey Clinker ; Mr. Whalley, 
with his grave suspicion of Mr. Newdegate, 
whom he once accused of being a Jesuit in 
disguise ; Mr. Newdegate, with his funereal 
voice, his solemn manner, and his pocket- 
handkerchief of the hue of the Scarlet Lady 
whose existence disturbed his hours sleeping 
or waking — all these lived in the Parliament 
of 1874-80. All, all are gone, and there is 
none to take their place. 

I see I have omitted flie 
the Admiral from the list, which 
admiral, proves its abundant fulness. 
Yet, perhaps, of all the charac- 
ters in that memorable Parliament, the 
Admiral was the most subtly humoristic. 
His proper style was Sir William Edmonstone, 
Bart, C.B., member for Stirlingshire. In 
the House he was never known by any other 
name than " the Admiral." Through the long 
Sessions of the '74 Parliament there was no 
more constant attendant than the Admiral, 
seated midway on the bench immediately 
behind Her Majesty's Ministers. Strangers in 
the gallery, attracted by certain growling^ 
suggestive of limited allowance of rum in 

jilized by Google 

Vol. xiii. 

the forecastle, grew familiar with the spare 
figure, surmounted by a small head, from 
which the hand of Time had gently but 
firmly plucked the greater part of the hair. 
They knew and liked the thin, resolute look- 
ing face, with frail vestiges of whiskers, the 
mouth marked with lines telling of threescore 
years and ten. 

In February, 1874, the Admiral came in 
with a crowd of new members, absolutely an 
unknown man. Circumstances had not been 
favourable to the development of that political 
acumen later developed in remarkable degree. 
Afloat or ashpre, he had served his Queen 
and .his country full fifty years. It was not by 
any fault of his that the only time he smelt 
gunpowder fiercely fired was when, as a lad 
of sixteen, a midshipman on the Sybille, he 
came across some pirates in the Archipelago. 
Since then the Admiral was present at many 
desperate actions, chiefly taking place in the 
House of Commons. He saw right honour- 
able pirates on the Front Bench opposite 
again and again attempt to board the 
Treasury Bench, he standing by and 
cheering whilst the bold Ben Dizzy beat 
them off. 

There were many things misty to the mind 
of the Admiral. One he could not compre- 
hend was the perversity that would lead a 
member of the House, in whatsoever quarter 
he might be seated, to challenge a decision on 
the part of even a subordinate member of the 
Administration. Sir William Harcourt used to 
take great delight in "drawing" the Admiral. 
This was not a difficult thing to accomplish. 
Express in plain terms the conviction that 
the Government had blundered ; say that a 
particular Minister. had done something he 
ought not to have done, or left undone that 
which he should have done. Thereupon the 
House, wickedly watching for the consequence, 
beheld the Admiral, hitherto quiescent, begin 
to move as a river-boat rocks when caught 
in the swell of a passing steamer. He 
tossed petulantly from side to side, thrust 
one hand deep in his trouser pocket, 
brushed with the other his scanty locks, 
as he rested his elbow on the back of the 
bench. Finally, seizing a copy of the Orders 
of the Day, the Admiral, his lips angrily 
pursed, his brow black as thunder, began 
furiously to fan himself. 

■_■ M l) 1 1 1 ".1 1 TrO m 




If the attack proceeded, he indulged in a 
series of coughs, the like of which was never 
heard on land or sea ; at first eloquently 
expostulatory, then indignantly denunciatory, 
finally hopelessly despairing. 

Early in the career of the Parnellites the 
Admiral devoted much attention to them, 
But for him, as for his esteemed leaders, they 
proved too much, During the -Session of 
1 87 7, when organized obstruction was in lull 
play, the Admiral was known to cough him- 
self hoarse, and in a single night to use up, in 
the process of fanning himself, five copies of 
the Orders abstracted from unconscious mem- 
bers sitting near him. Mr. Parnell went on 
as had been his wont, Mr. Biggar took no 
note of the frantic sema- 
phore signals made in 
his direction, Mr, 
O'Donnell blankly re- 
garded the irate old 
gentleman with the 
added aggravation of an 
eye glass. 

In the course of time 
the Admiral accepted 
the Parnellites with the 
sort of pained resigna- 
tion with which a man 
submits to untoward 
climatic phenomena. 
When one of them rose 
to speak, the gallant old 
salt, with a low groan, 
turned his face to the 
wall. Only an occasional 
tremor of the nervously 
folded Orders showed 
he was listening and in 
pain. The Admiral 
passed away with the 
Disraelian Parliament, 
and his type we shall 
never see more at Westminster. 

When the new Parliament elected 
the irish in 1S92 metj and the Liberal 
QUARTER. Party, long straying in the wilder- 
ness, crossed over into the 
Canaan whose pin ins smile to the right of 
the Speakers Chair 5 the Irish members, 
according to their wont, remained in their old 
quarters on the Opposition side. This w;is a 
piece of tactics suggested, I believe, by the 
late A. M, Sullivan. Certainly it was adopted 
under the leadership of Mr. Parnell. Up to 
1SH0 the Irish members, Nationalist first and 
Liberals afterwards, were accustomed to follow* 
the movements of the British Liberal Party. 
They sat with them in Opposition, and when 


by Google 

the Liberals regained office, they crossed the 
floor in their wake. When the election of 
1880 put Mr. Gladstone in power, the Parnell- 
ites, to the dismay and openly expressed 
disgust of the Conservative nobility and 
gentry, resolved to stay where they had been 
quartered when Parliament was dissolved. 
They were in full exercise of their right ; 
and, accordingly, country squires, sons of 
peers, University men, and wealthy manu- 
facturers had to grin and hear the company 
of Mr. Biggar, Mr. O'Donnell, Mr. Finnigan, 
and the rest. 

There was no pride about Lord Randolph 
Churchill, and, when he had established him- 
self in the leadership of the Fourth Party, he 
found the contiguity of 
the Parnellites highly 
convenient He and 
they were joined in 
the yoke of common 
enmity to Mr. Glad- 
stone and all his 
works. In those days, 
the Irish Nationalist 
member was in the 
House of Commons re- 
garded in a light difficult 
for a younger generation 
to realize. He was a 
sort of political leper, 
with whom no man 
would associate. Quite 
a sensation was created 
when j from time to 
time, Lord Randolph 
Churchill was seen 
to turn round and 
converse with Mr. 
Healy or Mr. O'Donnell, 
who usually sat imme- 
diately behind his corner 
All that is changed now. Old 
members have even grown ac- 
''" customed to Irish members being 
referred to by Ministers and 
ex-Ministers as " my hon. and learned 
friend*" (Note.— Nearly all Irish Nationalist 
members have been called to the Bar.) 
Nevertheless when, in the first week parties 
settled down in the House ol Commons 
elected in 1892, Mr. Willie Redmond was 
discovered seated on the fourth bench above 
the gangway on the Opposition >nl< , some- 
thing like a shudder rnn through the Conser- 
vative host. That is the quarter of the 
House where, when the Conservatives are in 
Opposition, the flower of the Squirearchy 
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blooms. To indicate its precise bearing, it 
suffices to say that the bench Mr. Redmond 
marked for his own was the very one 
frequented by Sir Walter Barttelot when 
his side were in Opposition. 

For Redmond Minor, above all Irish 
members, to plant himself out there was a 
procedure relieved only from the charge of 
effrontery by suspicion of a joke. There 
was no use trying to forestall him. Patriot 
squires banded themselves together, taking 
turn and turn about to be early at the House 
with design to secure all the seats on this 
bench. At whatever hour they arrived, 
they found on the seat next but one to 
that sacred to the memory of Sir Walter 
Barttelot a hat they 
recognised as hailing from 
East Clare. . 

The owner was always 
in his place at prayer- 
time to establish the 
claim he had thus pegged 
out But men, like eels, 
grow accustomed by use 
to all extremes of 
adversity. After a while 
Mr.W, Redmond endeared 
himself to his immediate 
circle of neighbours by 
loudly interrupting Mr. 
Gladstone when he spoke 
on Irish matters, and by, 
from time to time, 
blandly inquiring across 
the gangway of Mr. 
Tim Healy: "Who killed 
Parnell ? " 

A very old member of the House, 

MR. who sits in this quarter when the 

R bar don. Conservatives are in Opposition, 

recalls the company of another 
Irish member of eccentric habits. This was 
Mr* Reardon, who, some thirty years ago, 
repr es e n t ed a bo ro ugh con s t i t u ency . He had 
made his fortune at the auctioneers rostrum, 
and when he took to politics, he shrewdly threw 
in his lot with what in later times have been 
called " the gentlemen of England." The 
Conservatives were then in power, and Mr. 
Reardon, as a faithful follower of Lord Derby 
and a moneyed man withal, sat on the fourth 
bench behind Ministers. 

He had acquired an odd habit of slipping 
ofT his boots as a preliminary to going to sleep 
over an argument, The sight, and something 
more, of a pair of stockinged feet greatly 
irritated his neighbours. They dropped 
many hints of their preference for boots. 


But, more especially in hot weather, Mr, 
Reardon never failed to kick off his boots as 
a preliminary to settling down to close 
attention to debate 

One night he was in this condition when a 
division was challenged. A happy thought 
struck an honourable and long-suffering mem- 
ber who sat near him. Taking the brogues 
gingerly between finger and thumb, he passed 
out behind the Speaker's Chair, hiding the 
things under one of the benches at the back 
of the Chair. 

Mr. Reardon T thoroughly comfortable 
about the feet, slept on whilst the question 
was put, and did not even awake when the 
Speaker called "Ayes to the right, noes to 
the left." The bustle of 
the parting hosts at length 
aroused him. The House 
was evidently dividing, and 
he had not the slightest 
idea what it was about. It 
was of small consequence, 
as the Whip would show 
him into which lobby he 
should walk. Easy on 
that score, he felt down 
for his boots, and, lo ! they 
were not. He got down 
on his knees, peered all 
along under the bench, 
but, like the Spanish Fleet, 
they were not yet in sight. 

The House was now 
nearly empty. The Speaker 
was regarding his move- 
malts with grave attention. 
The Whips at the doorway 
were impatiently signalling. There was only- 
one thing to be done, and Mr. Reardon 
did it. He went forth and voted in his 
stockinged feet. 

A The old member recalls yet 

another story about Mr* Reardon. 
When he came forward in the 


Conservative interest, the Lord 
Lieutenant of the day did everything, that 
one in his position might do discreetly, to 
assist the candidate. When Mr, Reardon 
won the seat, and called to pay his respects 
at the Viceregal Lodge, His Excellency 
jocularly remarked that the new member 
owed much to him, and that he really 
deserved some reward. Mr. Reardon was 
delighted. Touching the Lord Lieutenant 
lightly in the ribs, he whispered in his ear : — 
"Certainly, my lord. I won't forget, 
There's a neat little bracelet in gold at the 
disposal of h?r ladyship," 






It was not without some difficulty that the 

alarmed Lord Lieutenant succeeded in avert- 
ing the consequences of his little joke. 

The British public, long familiar 
with Sir John TennieVs weekly 
cartoon in Punchy are not aware 
that this master in black and 
white at the outset of his 

c.trotT worked in colours. 

Nearly half a century ago 

he entered into competition 

fur engagement to con- 

tribute to the frescoes on 

the walls of the then new 

Houses of Parliament. He 

was selected f together with 

Mr Maelise, Mr. Herbert, 

Mr Horsley, and Mr. Dyce, 

who have since all achieved 

the position of R.A. 

In this respect, and in 

one other much more satis- 
factory, Sir John Tenniel 

stands in a position of 

splendid isolation. Very 

shortly after the frescoes 

were completed, the paint- 
ings began to disappear. 

As early as 1863, nine years 

after the completion of the 

work in the upper Waitings 

Hall, the Fine Arts Com- 

mission reported the paintings to be partially 

decaying. Since then decay has spread, till 

at the present day, some of the panels are 

blank save for suspicion 

of a smudge to be 

detected under a strong 

light The one excep- 
tion to the common lot 

is TennieVs fresco of 

" St. Cecilia/ 7 to be 

found on the staircase 

leading down from 

the Committee-room 

eorriJor to the central 


For some years 

patient and ivell- 

di reeled effort has been 

made to restore the 

other frescoes, but 

without effect. " St. 

Cecilia," on the con- 
trary, having been 

dusted and cleaned with 

bread, was found to be 

in a fair state of preser- 
vation. It has lately 


byC.i *"' 

received two coats of a paraffin wax solution 
invented by Professor Church, and all that is 
now wanted is a fairly good light in which it 
might be seen. The secret of this rare 
triumph is found, as in the case of other and 
older Masters, in the preparation and manipu- 
lation of colours. When the stripling 
Tenniel came to his work in 1849 it occurred 
to him that the best way 
to confront the peculiar 
difficulties of the case was 
to paint very thinly without 
impasto. In fact, he hardly 
did more than stain with his 
colours the white ground of 
the wall Yet this is the 
one that has lasted , whilst 
Mr. Herbert's fresco, Mr, 
Horsley % and the rest, dealt 
with what looked like fuller 
grip, and certainly with more 
colour, have vanished, leaving 
scarce a tone of colour behind- 
There is. Professor Church 
says, no parallel to this case 
of a pure fresco which, for 
nearly half a century, has 
successfully resisted the 
influence of the London 
atmosphere, more especially 
as it is developed in con- 
tiguity to the Thames. 
no Considering how keen is the 
strangers 1 interest excited by Parliamentary 
gallkrw proceedings, how high political 
feeling occasionally 
runs, it is remarkable 
how rare are the inter- 
ruptions to debate by 
strangers indulging even 
in an ejaculation. The 
most common outbreak 
from the Strangers' 
Gallery takes the form 
of clapping hands. 
Some village Hampden 
on a visit to town, 
making his way to the 
Strangers' Gallery of 
the House of Commons, 
listening entranced to 
an impassioned speech, 
gives vent to his feelings 
in the ordinary way by 
clapping his hands* 
That is what is usually 
done in similar circum- 
stances at meetings in 
)riginaltfc©mcountry he is 


1 i;:t: t-j «..". jt. 





accustomed to attend. Why it should be 
different in the House of Commons he does 
not at the moment realize. Full opportunity 
for thinking the matter over is invariably 
provided, he being summarily led forth by 
the attendant and conducted to the door of 
the outer lobby. 

The funniest disorderly inter- 
ruption to debate I ever heard in 
the House of Commons passed 
undetected by the authorities. 
At the time, sonif* years back, 
there was still in the Press 
nailery a very old member. 
He had, in fact, been in 
the gallery so long, had 
heard so many speeches, 
seen so many processions 
of members coming and 
going, that familiarity had 
justified its proverbial con- 
sequence of breeding con- 
tempt, Perhaps of atl 
members of the House, the 
one J. had the most rooted 
dislike for was Mr. Glad- 
stone; This was partly 
based on political grounds, 
J. being from birth and 
associations a high old 
Tory of the Church-and- 
State kind. The objection 
was possibly nurtured by 
the fact that Mr. C.ladstone 
was a voluminous s|>eaker, 
whom it was necessary to 
report fully, and when, 
towards midnight, a man wttc 

got a ten minute or quarter 
of an hour " turn," it meant unduly prolonged 

Next to Mr, (ilad stone, j. mostly disliked 
his own misguided countrymen, the Irish 
Nationalist members, As it was not always 
necessary to report what they said, he had 
the opportunity of listening, and was ac- 
customed to growl out a commentary upon 
their speeches. One Bight, after dinner, 
Mr. Sexton introduced into his discourse a 
statement that particularly irritated J. 

11 No, no," he cried, iri audible voice, 
shaking his head reprovingly at the member 
for Sligo, 

Standing in his accustomed place below 
the gangway, at the other end of the House, 
Mr. Sexton distinctly beard the contradiction. 
" An honourable member above the gang- 
way," he observed, * l says, * Ko, no. J 7 

Members in the quarter addressed pro- 

tested that they had not spoken, but Mr. 
Sexton had heard the contradiction, and in 
an aside of some length demonstrated its 

J. was remarkably silent for the rest of his 

It was not he, but a venerable and esteemed 
colleague who, at the end of a quarter of an 
hours " turn," during which reporters to 
right and left of him had been taking 
verbatim note of an important speech by 
Mr. (Uadstone, was accustomed to bend over 
and in a hoarse whisper 
inquire, ''What line is he 

taking ? " 


The other day 
I saw treasured 
in a private 
library what is 

perhaps the 
earliest collect ton of iVulia- 
m en ta ry speeches. They 
were delivered by Sir 
Nicholas Bacon, Lord 
Keeper, in the reign of 
Queen Elizabeth, father of 
the more famous Francis 
Lord Verulam, and were 
spoken in successive Parlia- 
ments of Queen Elizabeth* 
The addresses are written 
out on parchment that has 
withstood the wear and tear 
of more than three centuries. 
Half-way down one of the 
speeches is a break marked 
by this note : u Hereafter 
>n, ffolloweth that 1 intended 

to have saide if I had not 
byn countermaunded." 

Here is consolatory suggestion for Parlia- 
ment men in a reign that has lasted longer 
than Queen Elizabeth's. In Mr. Courtney \s 
case, mentioned last month (when on a 
Wednesday afternoon he Jalked out a 
Woman's Rights Bill he had risen to support), 
had he been aware of the precedent, and 
disposed to follow it } he might have averted 
calamity to the measure in which he took such 
generous interest. Had he been content to 
discontinue his prepared speech at the point 
where interruption grew boisterous he mi^ht, 
on the next morning, have pasted in a book 
of pleasant reference whatever measure of 
report the newspapers gave* Then, with the 
prefatory note, u Hereafter followeth what I 
intended to have said if I had not been 
countermanded," might follow at length the 
precious Qf^H^riSssilfrhose delivery had 




been checked by the noise of inconsiderate 
persons wearying to get home. 

In the recently published life of 

ducal Philip Duke of Wharton there 

duplicity, leaps to light a record usefully 

illustrating the standard of 
morality in those " good old n Parliamentary 
times, whose lapse we occasionally hear 
deplored. When Atterbury, Bishop of 
Rochester, was arraigned on a charge of 
treasonable conspiracy against good King 
George, Wharton espoused his cause and 
undertook the task of defending him 
before the House of Lords. When the 
indictment had proceeded a certain length, 
the Bishop's friends became anxious to 
know whether all had been alleged, or 
whether the representatives of the Crown 
had any cards up their sleeve. Wharton 
undertook to find out. He called upon Sir 
Robert Walpole, at the Prime Minister's 
residence in Chelsea, and protested his 
poignant regret at having hitherto adopted a 
line of conduct distasteful to the King and 
hurtful to his faithful Minister. By way of 
atonement he now offered to join in the 
denunciation of Atterbury, and begged the 
Premier to coach him up on the subject of 
the Bishop's guilt. 

Walpole, delighted to secure so important 
a recruit on the Ministerial side, told him 
everything. Next day the Duke appeared in 
his place in the House of Lords, and with a 
thorough knowledge of the strong and weak 
points of the prosecution upon which the 
Premier had dilated for his instruction, he 
delivered a powerful speech in favour of the 
Bishop ! 

It is happily impossible to parallel 

this achievement from modern 


Parliamentary records. The 


nearest approach to it, far 
removed from its slippery footing, 
was Lord Elcho's double dealing with the 
Derby Day. In the Session of 1890 he, in a 
speech that disclosed a real humorist, moved 
the adjournment of the House over the 
Derby Day. Two years later, in a discourse 
equally witty and not less convincing, he 
seconded an amendment by Sir Wilfrid 
Lawson traversing the proposal that the 
House should make holiday on account of 
the race on Epsom Downs. 

That is obviously a very different thing 
from the deliberate turpitude of the Georgian 
Duke. It marks the higher standard of 
morality which governs Parliamentary life of 
to-day that the House of Commons was 
vaguely shocked, being only partially re- 


assured by suspicion that it was all a 
joke. There may be no connection between 
the events, but it is certain that on the 
following day, the House having resolved to 
sit in spite of the Derby, no quorum was 
forthcoming, and within three weeks Parlia- 
ment was dissolved. 

No unalterable rule orders the 

cabinet location of a Cabinet Council. 

councils. Through the Parliamentary 

Session it not infrequently 

happens that a consultation of Cabinet 

Ministers is summoned upon some news of 

the moment, and meets in the room of the 

First Lord of the Treasury. It is not formally 

called a Cabinet Council, or so recorded, 

with the list of Ministers present, in the papers 

of the next day. But it is really the same 

thing, and occasionally leads to exceptionally 

important conclusions. 

In the ordinary course of events, Cabinet 
Councils are held in a large room on the first 
floor of the official residence of the First 
Lord of the Treasury in Downing Street. It 
was from this room that on a historic occasion, 
whilst awaiting a critical message from Con- 
stantinople, Mr. Gladstone's colleagues in his 
second Administration adjourned to the scanty 
walled-garden at the back of No. 10, Down- 
ing Street. A Government clerk chancing, in 
the rare leisure of a day's work, to look out 
of the window, happed upon the scene and 
sketched it, showing Lord Granville seated 
at a small table playing chess with a colleague, 
whilst the momentous message still tarried 
on the wires. 

The room in which the Cabinet Council 
sit is plainly furnished, something after the 
style of the dining-room in a well-to-do 
boarding-house in the neighbourhood of 
Russell Square. One notes the double 
windows, a precaution not necessary to 
exclude sound from without, for though in 
the heart of London Downing Street is, back 
. and front, one of its quietest dwelling-places. 
Possibly the device was adppted as final 
precaution against sounds from within 

There lingers round the Chamber 
a tradition of the Cabinets of 
1868-74 which took much wear 
and tear out of the Council-room. 
There was, at that epoch, a 
hideous yellow blind attached to one of the 
windows. In the course of some remarks on 
the Irish Education Bill, which led to the 
Ministerial crisis of 1873, M«\ Gladstone, 
restlessly walking to and fro, tugged at 
the blind ^j r jhe passed it, displacing the 









cord. The blind stuck fast half-way down on 
a painful slant Mr. Disraeli, coming into 
power on the crest of the wave of the General 
Election of 1874, found the stranded yellow 
blind in precisely the position it had been 
left by Mr. Gladstones undesigned effort 
One of the weekly illustrated papers published 
in July t 1874, a sketch of the new Cabinet 
Council, which inci- 
dentally preserves the 
condition of the wrecked 
window- blind* 

A CAB.NET THe daS] >' 


are not 

backward in 
providing on the follow- 
ing morning outline 
sketches of events tak- 
ing place within the 
j ea lo u s 1 y-gua r d ed porta 1 s 
of the Cahinct Council 
On the whole, for those 
having regard for 
accuracy, it is better to 
await the later appearance of letters and 
diaries f either of dead -and -gone Cabinet 
Ministers or of men intimately connected 
with Ministerial circles. 

Horace Walpole gives a charming account 
of a Cabinet Council 
of two, held under the 
presidency of Pitt The 
Premier, who during 
the term of his office 
lived in Downing Street, 
was in bed with the 
gout, and had sum- 
moned to conference 
his colleague the Duke 
of Newcastle. It was 
a bitterly cold day, and 
Pitt, according to his 
custom, having no fire 
in his room, hud bed- 
clothes piled upon him 
mountains high. This 
was all very well for 
the Premier, but rather 
hard on the IHike, who, as Walpole says, 
" was, as usual, afraid of catching cold." 
He first sat down on Mrs. Pitt's bed as 
the warmest place, then drew himself up 
into it as it got colder. The lecture 


continued a considerable time, and the 
Duke at length fairly lodged himself under 
Mrs, Pitt's bed-clothes, 

u A person from whom I had the story," 
Walpole writes, M suddenly going in, saw 
the two Ministers in bed at two ends of 
the room, while Pitt's long nose and black 
beard, unshaven for days, added to the 
grotesque character of 
the scene." 

The well - regulated 
mind refuses to con- 
template an analogous 
scene in Downing Street 
of to-day. The boldest 
imagination could not 
frame a picture calling 
up before the mind's eye 
Mr. Arthur Balfour in 
bed on one side of a 
room, whilst there peeped 
forth from beneath the 
coverlet of a couch at 
the other end of the 
chamber the spirituel 
countenance of the Lord Chancellor. 

Horace Walpole, who knew his 
Plato, might, had he chanced to 
think of it, have recalled an 
earlier bedside confabulation. It 
will be found in the 
Protagoras, giving an 
account of the visit of 
Socrates, ac com pa n ied 
by his friend Hippo- 
crates, to the house of 
Cat lias, with intent to 
make the acquaintance 
of three famous sophists, 
Protagoras of Abdera, 
Hippias of Elis, and 
Prodicus of Ceos. 
Socrates relates how 
he found Prodicus 
lying in his bed- 
chamber, rolled up in 
heaps of blankets, 
his disciples planting 
themselves on neigh- 
bouring beds whilst they talked. So great 
was the crowd, Socrates could not get in, 
and from the thronged portal listened to 
the resonant voice of Prodicus laying down 
the law. 




by Google 

Original from 

X C 
^tW. <pi&ooC dprflc gamc or 

By Grant Allen. 

EYMOUR," my brother-in- 
law said,